


Collapse

by selfmanic



Series: Head Cannon - Clint Barton [2]
Category: The Avengers, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Abandonment, Abusive Relationships, Biting, Chains, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mind Control, Paralysis, Past Mind Control, Rape Recovery, Serious Injuries, Shower Sex, Spinal Injury, Torture, truth collar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:10:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 34,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selfmanic/pseuds/selfmanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint gets injured during a mission with the Avengers and during his recovery starts to see himself as expendable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Collapse

**Author's Note:**

> The stories posted in this series are separate and not related beyond how Clint Barton is pictured in my mind ;-)
> 
> Please check out the amazing ending written by 3White_Mage3. A scene from after my fiction ended.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1687139

Clint groaned as he fought to drag his eyes open, breath wheezing in his chest. Darkness, great he thought morbidly.  It was pitch black and cold, his limbs already stiff from lying on the cool concrete and steel. He flexed his hands and stifled another whine, his left arm was definitely broken. Pulling his one good arm up he wiped at his eyes but beyond smearing grime across his face it didn’t improve his vision. He tried to shift but had to bite back the scream that wanted to leave his throat. Reaching back he traced the large bar of something that lay pressing against his hips. Yeah, not going anywhere anytime soon.

His head pounded where he had knocked it in the fall. Last thing he remembered he had been on top of a parking garage taking out Doom Bots while Hulk smashed things one street over. A cough sounded somewhere to his right making him twitch in reaction. Fuck, that hurt. Thank you rescue team, I’ll take that backboard now.

“Anybody there?” Clint tried to call out, his voice rough. He swallowed dryly and tried again, “Hello?” but gave into a coughing fit as the dust coating his body tried to be inhaled, drifting around him as he shifted.

“Clint?” a voice called out, sounded just as ragged and exhausted as he felt.

“Yeah, that you Bruce?” he asked, trying to clear his throat. It felt like he had gargled with glass, ugh.

“Yeah, you okay?” Clint could hear him shifting around with a rustle of cloth and grit grinding into concrete.

“Define okay.” Clint said with a rusty huff of a laugh.

“Good point. I take it we didn’t win this round with Doom?”

“No idea, last thing I remember was being on top of a parking garage. Guess we’re under it now.”

“I would say that’s a safe bet. My leg is pretty mangled but I still have my phone. I might be able to get a message out.” he said. Clint listened to the sound of him moving around before the glow of his phone’s screen lit the small space they were in. “Can you toss me your com? I think I can boost the signal.”

“Sure, not getting anything now.” Clint said, pulling out the silent black earpiece and tossing it to land next to Bruce’s arm.

“Good aim. Anything broken?”

“Yeah, my other arm and I’m pinned tight. Not going to be moving much without a crane.” Bruce continued to tinker with the com, the occasional screech of static from the phone the only break to the silence.

“You have a knife I can use? Need to splice two wires.”

“Yeah, give me a sec.” Clint grunted, trying to twist and reach the blade that should have been in his weapons harness.

He pushed past the stabbing pain from his arm and back as he wedged his hand under the block pressed against his hips and upper legs to get to his thigh holster. He pulled out the knife and tossed it to Bruce before running his hand across his vest to see what else he had to offer. He found his own phone, the screen smashed and tossed it over before going back to searching.

His hand froze when he found the ripped kevlar low on his back, a thick piece of metal protruding from the gash. The wound was strangely not painful and that sent a spike of fear through him as he took a slow careful breath, forcing fear back as he felt along the edges of the wound that seemed to span the small of his back.

“Find anything else?” Bruce asked, unaware of the silently pooling blood under the archer. Clint forced himself to respond with a grin, knowing Bruce would hear it in his voice.

“Not unless you need a gun.”

“Doubt it. Let’s see if that does it.” A second later the hole was filled with the sound of Coulson and Steve directing which blocks Tony and Thor needed to move from the jigsaw pile of rubble that covered them.

“This is Bruce, can you hear us? Agent, Steve can you hear us?”

The line went completely silent for a moment before the entire team was talking, making Clint huff out another pain filled laugh. He settled his head back against the cool concrete and concentrated on breathing while his team argued over each other before Coulson finally snapped and took over, his calm commanding tones filling the space around them. Bruce quickly relayed their injuries and situation.

“Bruce, do you think you could change to Hulk and get out?” Tony asked.

“Not unless you want a Hawkeye pancake.” Bruce said, his voice grim. “Clint’s pretty well pinned and I doubt I could get to him before the roof caved in.”

“Yeah, let’s avoid that.” Clint put in with a cough, trying to clear the dust out of his throat. He would be fine, Coulson would get them out before he bled out easily. He doubted Coulson would allow him to die while on a mission anyway, he could totally see the man ordering him not to die. Hell, he’d probably obey out of sheer habit.

“Good to hear you, Hawkeye.” Coulson said, his voice the calm and even tone it always was, helping some of the tension in Clint to bleed away.

“Same here, sir. Tasha okay?”

“Widow drew the short straw buddy, crowd control.” Tony said. Clint could imagine the gleeful look on his face when that decision was made. Natasha was going to be out for blood later.

“You two hold on, we will have you out in no time.” Steve added, Clint could almost see him posing patriotically. Okay, he might be losing a bit too much blood.

“Doubt we are going anywhere.” Bruce replied with a small grin at Clint, his face lined with blue light from the phone. Clint gave a small shudder at the visual and forced the blue tinted memories farther back. There was nothing he could do about that now, he reminded himself forcing himself to relax into the concrete. He came back awake sometime later with Bruce calling for him.

“What?” he asked blurrily, trying to move on instinct and cursing under his breath as he jarred his broken arm.

“You need to try and stay awake. You’ve got some blood on your face and probably have a concussion.”

“Okay.” he said blowing out a breath and trying to ignore the way his vision was spotted with black. He could feel the trickles of blood running down his sides.

“Talk to us, Clint. We need you to stay awake. We’re almost there.” Steve said, the sound of Iron Man’s servos straining in the background.

“Okay, Cap.” Clint slurred before giving in to a coughing fit, shuddering at the pain that whited out his vision and left him gasping for air.

“Say something, Clint. Talk to me.” Bruce insisted, his voice loud in the small space.

“All out of knock knock jokes, Bruce.” Clint said, propping his head up on his good arm. Both of them flinched as something settled above them, streams of dust sifting down along with a few small pieces of debris

“Careful, Guys. We’re getting some movement down here.”

“Roger that, Big Green. Just a few more blocks to go.” Tony said over the whine of the suit.

Clint settled down as best he could letting his mouth run about random things, he could wait a while longer to be rescued, it was kind of nice the way everything was going numb and cold. He was snapped back to consciousness with Bruce yelling his name as the entire structure shuddered, blocks and streams of brown dust falling steadily. He struggled to cover his head with one arm as debris rained down. Clint couldn’t hold back the scream as something slammed into his back, with a thundering roar the entire building gave way, plunging him back into darkness.

 

The team worked steadily heartened by being able to hear their teammates somewhere below them. It was clear Clint was injured but he was awake and talking at least even if his voice was hoarse and slurred at times. They worked as fast as they could clearing debris, massive concrete blocks and rebar.

Everyone bolted from the pile of rubble as an ominous shudder ran through the debris before the entire fragile structure began to collapse. Bruce’s scream of “Clint!” rang over the com mere seconds before the screaming started. It was almost worse when the entire connection dissolved into static and the Hulk heaved himself out of the rubble with a roar. There was no sign of Clint and the screaming had stopped.

Clint fought to breath as everything settled back down. By some miracle his head and shoulders were in a pocket of space but everything else was pinned beneath who knew how many tons of concrete. Bruce probably had Hulked out once the ceiling finally gave way, so he was at least out and relatively safe.

The team knew where he was and would come get him, he just had to wait it out while trying not to bleed to death. Yeah, great plan. The numbness was gone and everything hurt with a steady sharp stabbing taking up most of his back. The rock pressing against him limited his breath to small labored gasps that were already making him dizzy and lightheaded.

It was probably a good thing that he was unconscious when they found him finally. He was flown straight from the construction site to Shield medical for surgery to remove the rebar from his side and back.


	2. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint wakes up in the hospital.

***

 

He was on a ventilator and one arm was in a cast when he finally slowly surfaced back to awareness. Fury must have broken out the healing factor he used on Coulson again because he really should be in worse shape than this, he thought muzzily. Thankfully, nothing really hurt. Yep, must be on the good drugs. Coulson sat to one side watching him, working on some paperwork on the rolling bedside table.

 

“Natasha just left for coffee. She instructed me to inform you that if you ever die on her again she will revive you only so that she can kill you herself.” he said with a small frown tugging the corners of his mouth down. “You died on the table three times before you even made it out of surgery, Clint.” Clint blinked at Phil in acknowledgement and tried to flex his fingertips, making Phil sigh. “You’ve been in a medically induced coma for two weeks. They did two surgeries on your back to repair the damage to your liver and one to piece your arm back together.”  he said standing and walking over to the bed, fussing with the covers, smoothing them within an inch of their lives. If he pressed his palm against Clint’s good hand in the process, well no one else was there to notice. Clint managed a small choked sound around the vent as his vision slid back to black, the drugs pulling him back down.

 

The next time Clint woke up the nurses were called in and he was take off the ventilator. Natasha sat to one side working on a crossword puzzle while he got his breath back and tried to push back the nausea and pain from moving around.

“What’s a six letter word for asshole?”

“Barton.” he rasped back, his voice barely above a whisper. She set down her book and gave him a spoonful of ice chips. They’d both been the one in the bed too often to think of calling a nurse unless it was asked for.

“They don’t want you to talk if you can avoid it.”

Clint heaved a weak sigh and used his good arm to sign a “B” in ASL.

“Bruce? He’s fine, terrified that he had killed you by accident at first but the transformation healed his leg.” She gave him a look and started a run down of how everyone is, giving him the next spoonful of ice before setting the cup to the side.

“Steve, Tony, and Bruce are at the tower. I’m sure Jarvis has already told them you’re awake and they will be here soon. Tony hacked your files before you were out of surgery so Bruce could see your chart. We were all starting to worry that he would Hulk out from the sheer stress of hovering.” Natasha said a twitch of one lip.

“Coulson is in a meeting with Fury and is going to come back later this afternoon. They think you’re going to be in medical for at least another week. It depends if they have to do another surgery on your back.” She told him, her eyes flickering over the bandages that are hidden under sheets and hospital gown.

“The docs wanted you awake before they did more tests.” He gave her a sleepy thumbs up and let his eyes drift closed. He fell asleep to the soft sound of the black widow cursing in russian as she worked on her crossword.


	3. Planning to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint plans his get away.

***

 

He was welcomed back to the tower with open arms once he got out of the hospital, Tony ordering enough pizza to feed a third world country for a homecoming party that Clint mostly slept through. For the next three months Clint did rehab each morning and worked a desk at Shield each afternoon.

The team went out of their way to continue to fit him into the training sessions but he just was not up to full on combat missions until he healed up fully. His back was the slowest to heal. The healing factor used had healed the spinal damage and a lot of the bone breaks but he still had to build the muscles back up where they had been cut in the accident and the following surgeries. The constant random bouts of numbness or muscle spasms meant he was out of commission until he showed major improvement.

He put in as many hours as he could at the range but was forced to draw with his non-dominant right hand until his left arm recovered from the breaks and surgery. It would take him months to rebuild the muscles in that arm. He joked that it was helping reinforce his ability to shoot with either hand but he knew the team thought he was pushing himself too hard. He needed to get back into the game. If he couldn’t recover from this bad an accident than he had no reason for being the lone ordinary human on a team of super heroes.

If by the end of six months he was not back on top of his game he would simply take his leave of the team and go back to working only for Shield. If Shield insisted he work a desk however he was walking away from both organizations and finding some lone mountain top to live out the rest of his days... maybe.

At the rate he was going, it was looking more and more like he would have to go back to being a lone gun or a bodyguard for a while. He had enough savings to go where he wanted and do okay for a while but he would have to blow a lot of it just getting out of the country unseen. He could not use any contact that might track back to Shield so he would be going very low profile, cash all the way, sleeping rough and living homeless to avoid as many cameras as possible until he got a good solid cover.

Natasha might be the undercover interrogation expert but Clint was the one who disappeared into the woodwork, hiding in plain sight. If he went to ground they would not find him until he was good and ready. Originally he had been the one slated to track down Bruce since he tended to use the same methods that Clint employed. No one looked very hard at a down and out doctor giving away his skills in a war torn impoverished area, no one saw the beggars slumped in corners or perched in doorways.

He was not sure if Natasha or Phil suspected what he was planning but in truth he had planned a similar escape from Shield since he started working for them. He had never truly meant to stay as long as he had, ten years prior to Loki and one more afterwards only to go down with a parking garage. After a year of working with superhumans it was only too obvious that he was the weak link. No matter how much he trained or pushed himself he could never keep up with the rest of the team. He refused to be useless dead weight holding the team back.

No matter the lack of education he had growing up, once he became a member of Shield he had taken every class Shield offered that he could squeeze into his schedule. He was normally the one who repaired and set up the equipment used for any ops that consisted of Clint, Phil, and Natasha. The bow and quiver that was constantly being mocked by Stark had been designed by Clint with Shield R&D building the final products so that he could test them before submitting improvements. Now Stark did all the maintenance and improvement on the teams gear. Yet another way he was becoming useless.

The list of ways he did help the team was rapidly narrowing. He still helped Shield plan missions and had a stack of files on his desk to review later today but Steve had taken that task over for the team. He wasn’t even their only long distance shooter given the last battle where both Thor and Stark had taken out guys several blocks away from them. Stark had invented several hovering robot cameras run by Jarvis that took over his eyes on high position as well. The team had replaced him in a matter of weeks, before he was even out of the hospital really.

Clint gave a vicious grin as he fired the last arrow into the target. Might as well get the plan rolling, there was no real reason to wait six months when he was already half out the door in three. Packing up his gear, he carefully cleaned and stored his bow and quiver in the weapons locker along with his sidearm. He wouldn’t take anything that belonged to Shield or the Avengers, just the handful of mementoes he couldn’t replace, things that fit into the pockets of his leather jacket. It was pathetic really how little truly was his after eleven years of service.

He spent the month getting things together and finishing up every task Shield had given him. He would drop off the lot at Coulson’s desk right before he left with his discharge paperwork in a folder in the stack. His letter of notice had been horrible to write. He went through six versions before he had finally said that it was obvious he was no longer needed and asked that they not try and track him down.

He made sure that his routine wasn’t altered in the slightest as he prepared since Jarvis would probably notice any massive deviation from his schedule. He did start acting like he was having trouble sleeping once or twice a week and taking long walks around New York late at night. It would give him a good excuse for leaving in the middle of the night and not coming back for several hours.


	4. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint runs.

***

He had been on desk duty eight months when everything was ready. He slipped out of the tower early one morning dressed like he was going for a run. He told Jarvis he would be getting some breakfast out and let the others know if they asked. He jogged steadily through the park until he reached a spot he was certain had no cameras. Grabbing the gear bag he had stashed earlier, he started moving. Two hours later he was in another town waiting on a homeless man to return with the receipt from the post office. He was shipping all his paperwork in to Shield. Once he came back he gave him the promised payment and mounted his bike, he had a ship to catch.

He spent the next week moving from one shipping container carrier to another. He had spent a fortune on airplane and train tickets under several aliases. He called in every favor he had to get random people dressed like him, blonde blue eyed men, taking those tickets to their destinations some carrying his Stark electronics while others carried the various trackers that had once been imbedded in his weapons, clothes, and even the meat of his hip.

Once he landed he paid cash for a cheap car and made his way inland. Two weeks later he took a small row boat to an island somewhere in the middle of a small lake in Northern Scotland. His hair and eyebrows were dyed a dark brown and he wore jeans and dark thick sweaters as he chopped wood and readied his small cabin for winter. He had no cell phone and only plugged into the internet once a month to check a few random email accounts.

He created this alias years before he joined Shield, while he was still in the Army. He paid cash to buy the tiny cabin and land around it once he got out. He signed every bit of paperwork as Sean Jones, a New York local who went into the army and retired to spend his entire pension on a tiny cabin sitting in the middle of a lake in Scotland.

His days were quiet. He exercised and rowed the boat to the shore each morning to run laps around the lake. He fished from the shore and worked on making a new long bow and arrows. He went into town once a month to pick up supplies and get his mail, hitting the local library and bookstore to trade out for new books to read. Life was slow but he kept his training up just in case, he had made a lot of enemies over the years between Shield and his mercenary days. All it would take was one slip up and that was one more than he could afford.

 


	5. Out of Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint takes a week away from the lake house for a small vacation from his solitude.

After a year he took himself to Edinburgh for a vacation, staying off the street and holed up in a few bars and random hotels or hostels as he wandered. Frankly he was still a mess from the mindfuck that had been Loki and the last year had a least served to help him get back to feeling comfortable in his own skin. Now it was time to start getting out among normal people again, see if he could even deal with being normal. It was harder than he thought it would be. Even pretending that he was on an extended undercover op left him feeling out of place and distanced from the people around him.

With a sigh he settled further against the bar and raised a hand for another beer. The truth be told, he was lonely. He missed Phil and Natasha. Hell, he even missed the team. He had heard about the feelers they had sent out to his old contacts and knew all his old haunts and safe houses had been searched by now.

The news had been a mess for a while speculating on where the archer had disappeared to, the general consensus was that he was on an extended op for Shield or that he was in prison for his crimes before the Battle of Manhattan while he was under Loki’s control. The word in the criminal underground was even better, he was coked up on a beach in mexico surrounded by both male and female hookers.

Phil had hovered over him for the first few weeks he was recovering, only leaving to let Natasha come in to take night shift. Once he left the hospital they had given him a bit more space but Phil could still be found working on a tablet while Clint did his PT or talking to one of the team while he cooked breakfast, somehow he never managed to refuse a plate when Clint cooked. Once he was mostly recovered things had went back to normal with Clint pining from a far.

Clint had been hoping that his crush on the handler would fade with the time apart but it would just wouldn’t die. They had almost died for each other too many times for any relationship they had to be simple. After you have your hands inside someone keeping them from bleeding out a few times, no touch seems impersonal. Natasha and Clint were the same way. Phil had been dating for the last few years and while none of the relationships lasted long, he never dated agents so that scratched Clint’s name right off the list. He was fine with that, it was rare that Clint ever got what he actually wanted in his life anyway.

It did not help that everyone assumed that Natasha and him were a couple. They had fallen together once or twice after a mission in “Thank God, we’re not dead.” sex but it had never went farther than that. He saw her more as the badass sister he never had than a potential bed mate. They both had let the rumors continue since it meant that random agents were not trying to pick them up, neither of them really had time for a relationship unless it was with a member of their team and none of them were interested.

Now, here he was will all the time in the world and all he can think about is Phil. His unflappable calm while under fire, the immaculate expensive suits that he wore except on the most dangerous ops, the everyday man’s image that hid the core of steel that truly made the man. He may have wanted more but he still missed the downtime they spent together at restaurants around town or just sitting on Phil’s couch watching crap TV while one of them was recovering from an injury. Most of all he missed his friend.

Hell, he had come to Edinburgh hoping to get some shopping done and get laid. Instead he was wallowing in a bar slowly getting drunk. Yep, he was really making progress. Time to leave. He dropped a few bills on the bar and slid off his stool making his way toward the back exit. The place was packed and he had to push his way forward.

Another man grabbed the door and slid out into the alley behind him. Clint glanced at him as he pulled out his phone and checked his phone, not even ten yet. He was tall, at least six feet, broad shouldered and muscular beneath the thin sweater he was wearing.

 

“Not your scene?” he asked, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up.

“Not much, just in town for a few days.” Clint said, tucking his phone away.

“Got plans for the night?” He asked, letting his eyes trail down Clint’s body.

“Not at the moment. You have a suggestion?” Clint offered with a slight smile, maybe he hadn’t wasted the time to prep himself before he went out tonight.

“Care to head to my place? I have a room not too far from here.”

“Could do.” Clint said, slipping up closer to the other man until they were a hair’s breath for being pressed together.  “Name’s Sean.”

“Nathan, you can call me Nat.” he offered, reaching out a hand to stroke a hand down Clint’s neck before he pushed him back against the brick wall behind him. Blowing out a plume of smoke he pitched the cigarette before crowding against Clint, leg nudging his thighs apart as he ducked down pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before biting a line from his jaw to his shoulder, making Clint shudder.

“You up for it?”

“Yeah.” Clint breathed, grinding his hips against the other man before pushing him back. “Lead the way.”

“Tease.” Nat drawled in a soft brogue, cuffing the smaller man on one shoulder before stepping away and waiting for Clint to follow.

“Only if you don’t fuck me.” he murmured lengthening his stride to keep up with the taller man. He was thankful he was not wearing a tight pair of jeans. Clint was already half hard just in anticipation, he needed this.


	6. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team gets a lead on Clint.

He had really needed that, Clint thought with a small smile as he finished getting cleaned up at his hotel. It had been years since he had bothered even trying to pick someone up, it normally just served to remind him of what he could not have. Nathan had been perfect, pressing into Clint and manhandling him like he was a child. It was rough and sweet. They had stayed at Nathan’s hotel for most of the next day making out and having slow sloppy sex in between orders of takeout. He had slipped up once, overwhelmed and trembling, gasped out Phil’s name but Nathan had only laughed softly and called him Chuck before sucking and biting at his neck.

It was his last shopping day here in town and he had a lot of places he wanted to hit before he started his meandering trip back. For once, he felt good, relaxed. He might be able to do this “normal” thing for once, he thought with a grin, finishing up his packing and checking out of the dingy hotel.

Clint slid through town picking up a few things at random stores as he passed them, just an American on vacation.The only pick up he was worried about were the bow strings and parts to build a custom compound bow that he could not make with the limited tools he had access to. Thankfully the pick up went smoothly and he slipped out of town while it was still light to start his convoluted trip home to lose any tails he might have gained.

 

***

 

Unknown to Clint, an emergency meeting of the Avengers had been called when a single frame of his image in the Hunting shop his Jarvis’ search algorithms. The team raced to the tower hoping to hear good news. None of the team had been willing to give up the search for their missing archer but after a year had passed they were all starting to lose confidence.

Agent Phil Coulson was the most dedicated to the search, surprising everyone with his ruthless use of Shield resources before Fury was finally forced to cut him off after six months of searching returned nothing but almost a dozen look a likes that had been paid through outside sources to pretend to be Agent Barton for several weeks. It was said that the arguments between Fury and Coulson had become legendary with the man known for his legendary calm threatening to quit at the slightest provocation.

 

“I don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up too soon. It’s just a partial match.” Tony said, pulling up the partial profile of the man that they thought was Clint. The picture was grainy and in black and white, only part of the man’s face showing was he left the store, caught for an instant as he crossed the street.

“Where is this?” Steve asked, shifting forward in his seat to see better.

“Edinburgh, Scotland. The store is a well known Hunting supplier, sells hunting rifles and bows. The man ordered several bowstrings and parts that you would need for a compound bow a week before. Paid cash on pick up, went by the name Dirk Harrington.”

“How long ago was this?” Phil asked, eyes never leaving the screen.

“Yesterday, mid afternoon local time.”

 

Phil gave a decisive nod and looked at Natasha for a moment before pulling out his phone.

“Nick, you can consider this final notice of my retirement or a leave of absence. Your call.”

“Scotland.”

“Fuck you, sir.” Phil said hanging up and carelessly chucking the phone into the nearest wall making Steve and Bruce eye him apprehensively.

“Burning a few bridges, Agent.”

“The name is Phil, Stark, and most people would say it’s about time.”

“When do we leave?” Natasha asked, with a smirk.

“As soon as I get a new phone and we have a plan of attack. You know he won't be living in Edinburgh. If he did we would have gotten a picture months ago.”

“We can’t all go charging in, he’ll just bolt all over again.” Natasha pointed out gently.

“I am aware.” Phil bit out, stripping off his suit coat and rolling up his sleeves. “Jarvis, I need you to run a search of every American citizen that is currently living in Scotland. He won't be crossing borders if he can help it so let’s start small. Narrow that down by showing only male Americans who have a previous military record. He would want to keep it close enough that he could find work if he needed it.”  
“You don’t think he was planning to come back?”  
“I think he has held this as a backup plan since before he joined Shield.”  Phil said with a sigh. “Clint has never trusted easily. He is one of the few agents I have ever known to keep get-away packets in every field bag he ever used. He was ready to cut and run in a heartbeat.”

“This is going to take a while. I’m going to get some coffee and food brought in.” Bruce said, snagging Tony and towing him along with him.

“When we find him we’re going to have to prove to him that he has a reason to stay, that we trust him.” Steve said softly, digging through a cabinet and setting out a stack of notebooks and Starkpads interfaced with Jarvis.

“Yes, we are.” Phil replied with a determined nod taking the phone Natasha was offering him and starting to call his contacts in Scotland, this was going to take some time.


	7. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team heads to Scotland.

Phil, Tony, and Bruce were hunched over several computer terminals working on finding out exactly where the archer had gone to ground. Steve was still learning the systems and trusted the others to get the programs correct when every second counted more than himself. He went through the tower collecting go bags and weapons so that they were ready to move at a moments notice before settling at the back table and doing a thorough weapons cleaning and check on everyone’s gear. On a whim he grabbed Clint’s bag as well, if they did find him he might want it back.

 

“Natasha, I know you and Phil know him best out of all of us. Why do you think he ran?”

“He didn’t trust himself to be in top form in the field.” Natasha said, pulling out a knife and a polishing cloth. The rest of the team had finally stopped flinching every time she did it, realizing it was just something to occupy her hands while she thought. “Clint loved being part of a team, he was never well suited for the solo life even if a lot of his life pushed him towards it. He always put the safety and happiness of everyone else around him first. He saw himself as the expendable one.”

“Is that normal for a sniper? I know Bucky was a sharpshooter, not a sniper but he had an ego the size of New York. Clint liked to talk big but it always seems a bit over the top.”

“Snipers are always arrogant and a bit narcissistic. They have to be the best at what they do, everything is a competition to them, a way to prove that they are better than anyone else. They are the eyes on high that decide who gets to live or die.” She said with a small grin before she sobered, the smile slipping away. “Clint had most of his God Complex beat out of him as a child. He was a performer in the circus, always one act away from losing his slot. He’s used to having things taken away from him, having to work constantly to prove that he is worthy of being the best.”

“But he is the best at what he does, he never misses.”

“And yet everyone expects that of him. Every time we work with a new team Clint has to put up with people pushing at him, forcing him to prove that he really is as good as everyone says. What would happen if he did miss?”

“But he doesn’t miss.”

“Everyone misses, Steve, even Hawkeye. Last time he was less than half an inch off his target he was shooting with broken fingers and ribs.” She told him with a bitter smile. “He spent the next month training so hard he rebroke his fingers four times. He thinks he’s one shot away from being kicked off the team, having Shield send him to jail, being taken out back and shot like an animal.”

“That’s crazy.”

“He’s been abandoned too many times, Steve. He can’t trust that anyone else is going to have his back, not even us.”

“Then how do we convince him that we are not letting him run away this time? How do we get him to trust us and call this home?”

“We give him a reason to stay.” She said firmly watching where Phil was pacing to one side. “You have to realize that he has lost every home he ever had. His parents died, his brother abandoned him, the circus left him, his mentor tried to kill him, Shield gave him away after Loki. He may have been an Avenger but this was not his home, not yet. We need to give him a reason to stop running, something to come home to.”

 

***

 

“Guys, we might have a problem.” Tony said with a frown, throwing up more and more holo screens to contain the information he was searching.

“What’s going on?”  
“Some small town in the middle of no where Scotland just had several different branches of Federal and local police called in. They found over thirty bodies of known criminals and mercenaries surrounding a small lake and on an isolated island in the middle of the lake. There is no sign of the owners but whoever they were they boobie trapped the place to a farethewell.”

“Sir, I have satellite footage on screen two.” Jarvis said pulling up images of the tiny cabin and it’s burned surroundings.

“Go Skynet for me, Babe. I want to scour the local video and footage for any possible match to Clint in the last year.” He dove back into typing. “Oh, that is brilliant. The cabin was owned by a retired veteran, Sean Jones. He has owned the property for years but recently moved there with his older father, also called Sean. Looks like Clint was playing both the dad and the son in town. Dad rarely went into town, relying on the son to pick up things when he was in town, Son was often away on business.” Tony pushed away from the console and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Phil and Natasha can head that way like we were planning, get in to check out the cabin. We’ll keep pulling what we can from here. Cap can play liaison with Scotland Yard.”

 

***

 

Natasha silently prowled around the cabin, eying the broken furniture, glass, and smears of blood that filled the room. Two bows lay splintered and broken in one corner while several arrows lay next to a smear of blood like someone had picked up one arrow with a sweep of bloody fingers.

 

“Lay it out for me, Agent Romanov.” Phil said, pausing in the doorway with the division head for the local version of the FBI, Serious Organised Crime Agency (SOCA).

“Agent Barton took out the first twenty or so at the parameter, partly through traps and partly through sharpshooting with a hunting rifle. The next twenty converged on the cabin attempting to force Barton out by starting a fire outside the cabin. Agent Barton retaliated and shot four of his attackers next to the origin of the fire.”  
“Excuse me but if he was shooting from inside the cabin than those shots are virtually impossible.” the SOCA officer interrupted.

“Sir, Agent Barton is one of the best shots in Shield. He made the shots through the attic ventilation slots.” Natasha said pointing to the beams and small ventilation screens. “It’s the ideal vantage point for a sniper, mobile and above the action.”

“Continue, Agent Romanov.” Phil said moving to sift through the books and papers scattered around the cabin.

“He took out another six men before he was overpowered by sheer numbers. They forced him to his knees here. He took out one more with an arrow, you can see from the blood smears. He was injured but not seriously. We have satellite footage of eight men dragging out another man who is unconscious.”

“Why exactly was Agent Barton this far out from civilization?”  
“He owns the land. He took a leave of absence from Shield not long after he was released from medical after his last mission went bad.”

“Could this attack be related?”  
“To the last mission? No, however it could have been someone from his past. I’ll get our people rounding up a list of possible antagonists.” Phil said tugging out his phone and sending a message to Tony and a contact at Shield to get Clint’s full file delivered to the Tower.

“Whomever he is, this Agent Barton of yours is one tough guy considering the odds here.” the officer said with a small huff. Natasha shared a glance with Phil before going back to searching.

“Frankly, this was low key for him.” Phil said with a tiny smile. “Now, I am going to need to get all the files SOCA has on the bodies you have identified.” he said gently leading the other man out of the cabin.

Natasha surveyed the wreckage of the cabin, letting her eyes skip over the shattered bows and blood droplets. She gathered the one intact recurve that she found under the bed to take back with her.  Only working with Clint for so many years let her find his escape hatches hidden in the roof and the weapons stashes still stocked and ready to be used. His go bag was still in place and full of currency and passports, this was definitely not a robbery.

The one thing she did not find was any of their coded messages. Either Clint thought they would never track him down or he did not have time to leave a marker showing who his attacker was. He might not have known who it was yet considering he had been alive when they took him. They most likely were keeping him alive until he was presented to the Boss or they wanted to use him as collateral against Shield or the Avengers. The team needed more information.

 

 


	8. The Middle Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is captured by a middle man before he is sent on to the final destination.

Clint was shocked awake with a bucket of icy water drenching his frame. He hung from a pair of shackles, stretched face down against a wall, body stretched tight so his bare feet just touched the floor. Another pair of shackles circled his ankles connecting them to a short chain to one side preventing him from raising his feet. No acrobatics to get out of this.

He fought to keep his shivers controlled, water made the black boxers he was wearing cling to his skin. Great, next to naked and chained to a wall. Let the show begin.

 

“There he is. Glad you could join us, Hawkeye.” The smooth drawl behind him wasn’t anyone he could identify.

“Pity I can’t say the same.” Clint said with fighting the urge to twist and see the man just out his his line of sight.

“Ah, excuse me. I am forgetting my manners. Gentlemen, if you please?” Two hulking mountains of muscle stepped forward gripping his arms and spinning him to face the spokesperson. He was almost disappointed in the reveal. Somehow this guy lost the genetics lottery. While most Crime Bosses were either horribly ugly or almost inhumanly beautiful, this guy sat dead on average. White with brown hair, brown eyes, and nondescript features. Phil would have had a field day with training this guy to disappear into a crowd.

“Am I supposed to know you or something?”

“Sadly, no. I am merely the middleman in this affair. Once we have a few questions answered you will be sent on to our benefactor in this endeavor.”

“And who would that be?”

“That is one question I cannot answer. Gerald, if you would? I think it’s time to get started.” he said gesturing to one of the hulking men to one side.

 

What followed was a very systematic beating designed to hurt more than to break. Soft tissue damage and bruised ribs seemed to be in his future. Surprisingly they left his face alone so they wanted him to be recognizable to their benefactor. That narrowed the field since very few people even knew what Clint looked like or connected his name to Hawkeye. It seemed to go on for hours to Clint before he was finally put under with a rag covered in chloroform.

He awoke groggily sometime later strapped firmly to a chair a metal band digging into his neck. He was blindfolded and he could feel cuts  and swelling around his eyes, the fabric wet where it pressed into his skin. He forced his breathing to remain slow and even, ignoring the spike of fear that forced his heart to race. They wouldn’t touch his eyes, he was too valuable for that kind of torture, it was a bluff, nothing more. His eyes were glued or crusted shut so he couldn’t even blink to reassure himself. His face hurt from the cuts and swelling but it was not the bone deep stab of a major wound and losing and eyes was surely that, right?

 

***

A technician came rushing into the conference room the team was using, shoving a folder at Coulson before heading back out at a run. Coulson quickly flipped open the file before abandoning and shoving Bruce away from one  of the computer consoles. When they realized that Clint had been taken the entire team had been moved to a small local Shield base in Scotland to assist as they could.

 

“Shield intercepted a live broadcast.” he said fingers flying as he pulled up the video, a moment later the largest screen filled in.

The screen showed Clint strapped to a chair from the chest up. He was blindfolded with a piece of bloody cloth and wore a metal collar around his neck. The room behind him was an empty concrete cell, someone walked back and forth behind him but the camera focussed on Clint, blurring out the background.  Bruises and small cuts littered his chest and arms but beyond the bandage covering his eyes he seemed mostly uninjured.  The man in the background stepped forward, placing a hand on Clint’s shoulder.

 

“Are you ready to begin?” He asked in a mild tone. Clint’s reaction however made the room watching freeze. Clint opened his mouth likely with a snarky reply only for his entire body to tense, chest heaving before a gasped “No.” slid from his throat.

“Now do you understand what the collar does?”

“Fuck...yes.”

“What is it?”

“Truth collar.” Clint nearly whined through clenched teeth, his muscles standing out in tense lines.

“Good boy.” The man said, patting Clint on the head condescendingly. “You need to accept reality, Hawkeye. The collar will force you to speak and resisting will only cause you to harm yourself.”

The next two days consisted of Clint being questioned constantly with breaks only to inject him with various chemicals. Amazingly Clint refused to answer anything related to Shield or the Avengers. He bit his lips and tongue bloody as he fought against the collar and drugs filling his system. What he did answer was vague and he stuck to yes and no answers as much as he could. Surprisingly the only questions he talked about openly were about Phil.

 

The man who had been questioning Clint was gently washing him down with a washcloth, stroking it over his fevered skin in a twisted scene of care.

“Tell me, who does Hawkeye love?”

“No one.” Clint rasped out, leaning into the cool cloth. His eyes were glazed with the drugs filling his system.

“And you, who do you love?” he murmured, dipping the cloth back into a basin set to one side before going back to his gentle ministrations.

“Phil.”

“Why do you love Phil?”

“’cause he’s always underestimated, he’s beautiful.” Clint slurred, letting the man run the cool cloth over his forehead and through his short hair without complaint.

“Does he love you?”

“No, he doesn’t love me.”

“Poor him.” the man murmured before gesturing to one side, a moment later the feed went to static causing Tony to start frantically working for several moments.

“Sorry, they cut the feed.”

“Yep, I doubt Clint even knew he was being recorded between the blindfold and the drugs.”

 

***

 

Clint was again chloroformed before he was moved. These men were taking no chances with the Shield assassin. He woke shackled and hanging by a chain in the middle of the room. Somehow they noticed he was awake and a crank sounded to one side as they wenched him higher until his feet didn’t touch the ground. His feet were chained loosely to the ground with enough slack that he swung forward and back with every movement he made.

This time the questions were followed by punches, questions he could not allow himself to answer. They asked about security codes and base locations, number of troops, and various on going operations. He hung in silence only broken by the occasional groan as they hit a tender spot.

The two men throwing the punches set up a rhythm, slamming into him as the chain swung back toward them, using his movement against him. The next blow was off center causing him to twist, throwing off the other man’s punch so it slammed into the long scar across his back. Clint’s entire world whited out as he screamed. The feeling of broken bone grating against each other left him gagging in reaction. He could faintly hear the men frantically talking before he was quickly lowered to the ground. It was a mercy when he pain finally pulled him under.

He woke to the two thugs pulling him into a helicopter. The blindfold had been removed but there was nothing to see but grey metal. He was still cuffed but his back was what kept him still, even just laying there breathing he could feel the broken bones moving sending spikes of pain shooting up his spine. Blood already coated the back of the shirt they had pulled on him, he couldn’t feel anything below his waist except for the gaping wound that seemed to occupy his back. He lay on the cold metal shaking with reaction as the Ordinary Man climbed in and pulled his cuffed arms forward.

  
“I want to apologize for this. You were not to be seriously harmed before delivery but it seems that my associates were too zealous in their work.” He slide a syringe into Clint’s arm, depressing the plunger slowly. “This is the best I can do for you, my friend. I hope your next master is as kind.”


	9. Surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint finds out exactly who wanted him kidnapped.
> 
> ***Short chapter, am sick with the flu so this is not my best. I hope to make corrections and edits to this next week.***

 

Clint fought against the whine that came from his throat as he woke, his body tensing on instinct to try and lessen the pain. He was strapped face down to a steel table, his vision whited out and blurred from the bright lights pointed at him. He was strapped down firmly, even if he wanted to he couldn’t do more than wiggle against the thick leather pinning him down.

He stayed still, working on staying awake and controlling his breathing as he tried to get as much detail about where he was as possible. He was no longer in a featureless concrete room. This was some kind of medical bay or surgical suite. He firmly ignored how much he wanted to start fighting his way out of the restraints as he cataloged the various items he could use as weapons once he got free. He listened as two men entered the room, one immediately moving to several cabinets and collecting pieces of medical gear. The other man simply stood and watched him for several long minutes before he finally spoke.

“It’s good to see you again, Clint.”

“Josh.” Clint rasped out as he watched the man walk around the table and into his line of sight.

“I go by Ash now.” He said with a small grin his eyes flickering along Clint’s body cataloging details that only he could see.

“Suits you.” Clint ground out, trying to force his exhausted mind to wrap around the fact that an ex-mercenary and ex-boyfriend had kidnapped him, only to make sure he was healed. The break up had been ugly and was one of the things that had driven him in the end straight into Shield’s arms.

“Always so eager to parry wits. I have missed you.” He said with a soft laugh running one hand along Clint’s shoulder. “The good doctor here is going sedate you and fix your back. Once you’re recovered from the surgery we can speak again. Take good care of him, Doc.”

The Doctor gave a nervous sounding “Of course.” from his spot on the other side of the room as Ash left, his step light and barely audible on the linoleum.

“Mister Barton, I need to you to tell me what you can about your injury.”

“I broke my back in a fall. Shield healed it for the most part. I was out of work recovering when I got kidnapped by your employers goons. They got in a lucky punch and re-damaged something.” Clint swallowed thickly for a moment before he forced himself to continue. “I can’t really feel anything from the waist down. I could feel the broken bones in my back moving every time I got moved around.”

“Can you feel this?” the doctor asked, stepping up to the table Clint was on.

“Feel what?” Clint managed to gasp, voice cracking as he tried to see where the man was pressing.

“How about now?” he asked, moving farther up Clint’s leg.

“No.”

“What about now?” He asked, Clint finally able to feel his hand pressed into his waist.

“Yes, I can feel that.” He choked out.

“Ok, I am going to get you started on some blood and an IV drip while I my assistant and I set up. After that we’ll sedate you and start on your back. What happens is really going to depend on how it looks once we get in there. Just relax for now, sleep if you can.” He said, giving Clint a quick squeeze on one shoulder before he moved to the door.

“Thanks, Doc.” Clint managed to rasp as the door clicked shut. He was mostly successful in controlling himself until the Doctor and his assistant came back in, he ignored the few tears that had managed to leak out. He would just have to make this work until he could get away.

 

***

 

Natasha came stalking back into the room drawing everyone’s attention.

“I just got word from a source that someone paid over ten million for Hawkeye to be delivered to him untouched.”

“And was he?”

“The rumor is that he was not. The buyer was very upset that he was damaged and took it out on the middle man, the guy in the video. Sounds like he is going to be turning up dead on the side of a road somewhere.”

“So that was not the buyer?”

“No, the buyer goes by the call sign Ash, I haven’t been able to find anything about him yet.”

“It has to be related back to Clint in some way. He’s talked to you about his mercenary days, would anyone he mentioned fit this kind of MO?”

“Clint was pretty careful to avoid pissing off the competition. He burned some bridges but nothing that would have kept a grudge for over ten years that I’m aware of.”

“What about bad relationships?” Coulson asked, from the other side of the room he had managed to ride out the video footage stoically but the strain was starting to show in his wrinkled suit and missing tie. Natasha merely raised one eyebrow at him until he huffed and went on. “I know he was in an abusive relationship before he came to Shield. He spent his first month on base in an out of medical thanks to whoever he was seeing. It was part of the reason he joined in the first place, to distance himself from his ex.”

 


	10. Ch. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this was a lot more brutal then I was planning. I was fighting tears just writing it. Fair warning.  
> Trigger Warnings: Implied rape and abuse.  
> I am still editing the previous chapter and there may be changes to this one as I am still writing while sick.

Clint growled under his breath as he forced himself to let go and swing his arm to the next handhold. Surprisingly, Ash seemed determined to get Clint back into shape, leting him to exercise several times a day now that his back was healing. He mainly used the parallel bars, relearning his balance as he maneuvered around the dead weight of his legs.

He pushed himself as quietly as he could. Simple exercises that rebuilt the strength and muscle he had lost while confined to a bed as his back healed. He had no intention of staying here. Once he was strong enough he was getting out. After the mess he was sure had been left at his cabin the Avengers would be looking for him. He just had to bid his time and wait for an opening.

Much of the time he spent with Ash was strangely domestic. They ate most meals together, sat together at the end of the day and read book or watched movies in the rooms Clint had been given. Yet for all the care and seeming devotion there was still a price expected at the end of the day. He was still just a toy to Ash, just as he had been years ago before Shield.

He had gotten lucky in breaking his back, if you could call it that. His sphincters had been paralyzed closed instead of open. So instead of being forced to wear a diaper, he instead had to be catheterised several times a day and let the doctor’s assistant massage his rectum twice a day to force his body to eliminate the wastes that most people seemed to ignore. As part of this last ritual he was cleaned and prepped so that he was ready for intercourse should  Ash want it. The doctor’s assistant had actually apologized the first time she had been forced to prep him.

Clint did his best to be nice to the doctor and his assistant. They had no control over what Ash ordered them to do and he was dependent on them for too much of his day to day life. He might be screaming mentally as he fought the urge to lash out at the people holding him captive but he buried as many of his reactions as he could. He just needed to wait for an opening, if it meant that he fought through nightmares each night and smothered his sobs in a pillow then so be it. He would deal with it as long as he had to. Eventually everyone would pay if he had to kill them with his bare hands.

He suppressed the shudders that wanted to rake him with every touch from the man’s hands. He had too many memories of just how much those hands could hurt him to every relax around Ash. He had nearly beat him to death when he ran the final time, Clint would just have to hold out until his escape was absolutely assured. He was just too vulnerable like this.

It was just another op. He had played the object of affection on several missions, he could do this. He actually welcomed the numbness and distance his injury gave him in this. He had been horrified when he had realized that he could still get hard, in response to Ash’s teasing touch. Since that first night he seemed to delight in forcing Clint to come each time they slept together. The doctor and his assistant resolutely ignored the bite marks and bruises that littered his body, treating them as it was needed.

He was allowed to push himself around the base in a wheelchair trailed by two goons that never left his side outside of his rooms. Even alone he was under watch, security cameras tracking his every breath even in bed. He hoped that he got to kill Goon 1 and 2 when the time came. They watched him with barely concealed lust, the only thing stopping them was the fact that Ash would kill them if they ever so much as touched him.

He thought he had been at the base four months when the attack finally came. It might have been longer, he had lost a lot of time while he was sedated after the surgery. It was the middle of the night when the doctor’s assistant was hustled in by the two goons guns drawn. They dressed him with shaking hands in a guard’s uniform and left, the goons standing guard by the door. Clint pulled himself into a seated position, propped against the wall, settling in to wait. It did not take long. Ash strode into the room also dressed in the black on black outfit of a guard. Reaching down he pulled Clint’s arm over his shoulders, gripping the back of his belt with his other hand he hauled the limp man up to dangle along his side. Clint dug his hands into Ash’s shoulder and waist to help support his weight.

“Time to leave, lover.”

“Is it?” Clint asked, letting the taller man adjust his grip. “Someone crashing our party?”

“Aren't they always? The base is going to fall. It’s time to leave, we’ll head to asia and carve out a new kingdom.”

Clint didn’t bother to respond, waiting silent as Ash moved toward the door. Clint struck, his teeth biting deeply into the other man’s neck. His hands convulsed around Clint as he ripped out his jugular to the shouts of the guards. They both tumbled to the ground, Clint already twisting and slamming his fist into the groin of the nearest guard who collapsed gasping in reaction.  The second goon stood frozen for the second Clint needed to flip and climb the larger man’s body like he was a tree. Clint ignored the blows raining down against his back as he choked the man in his arms. He slowly slid to the ground as Clint cut off the blood flow to his brain before finally breaking his neck.

When Captain America broke down the door Clint was already halfway across the floor, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Natasha stepped through the door a moment after the Captain taking in the scene and the implications immediately.

“We have Hawkeye. Bringing him out.” She said briskly into the com. She pushed past the Captain’s frozen from to pull Clint up into her lap and hand him a gun. Clint bared bloody teeth in a vicious grin as he accepted the weapon.

“Nice work.” She said simply, eying the bodies.

“I thought so.” Clint rasped, his voice cold.

“Any of this yours, Clint?” The captain asked gently, eying the sprawled archer.

“Not that I can tell.” he said honestly making Natasha twitch against him.

“Clint, can the Captain carry you?”

“Long as he keeps his hands to himself.” Clint said clearing his throat and trying to swallow around the taste of blood.

He extended one arm, forcing the Captain to carry him much as Ash had, leting Clint keep one hand free to hold the gun and shot as needed. Sadly, it wasn’t needed. The base was sadly conquered as they moved toward the exit. They met Phil one the way out. Clint wished he could have appreciated the site of the normally understated man fitted out in tactical gear. Must be shock, he thought muzzily as he watched Natasha and Coulson fall into step protecting Clint and Cap’s backs.

“Always have my six.” Clint muttered into Cap’s shoulder as the two took their posts, guns at the ready. It was strangely surreal, he had dreamed of this too many times, was this just another nightmare? Would he wake up to Ash’s tender care soon?

The Hulk was still rather enthusiastically smashing the cars and planes stored to one side as they exited the building. Clint was quickly handed off to the medics where he was stripped of his shirt and examined for injuries. He missed the look of shock on Coulson’s face as he took in the bite marks, cuts, and bruises that littered his body.

Natasha settled on the cot next to him as the quinjet started up in the background. She patted the spot next to her with a twitch of her lips. Clint gladly folded, pressing his face into her leg and wrapping one arm around her. He didn’t even twitch when some lifted his leg onto the bench and arranged them so he could lay on his stomach. Natasha’s hand on his shoulder tightened for a moment at this before she started carding her hand through his hair.

“You need a haircut.” she chided gently. Clint fought against the shudder that wanted to run through him at the gentle statement. It wasn’t her fault.

“Ash liked it long.” he choked out as Natasha stilled, feeling the tension in his body.

“Hawk…”

“Leave it, Tash. Please, he’s dead.”

“For now.” She said simply, returning to the slow stroking of his hair.

Each of the Avengers came in, touching Clint in some way before they took their seats like they needed to reassure themselves that he really was back. This was a good dream, he decided watching as Phil stalked to the front of the plane. He was the only who had yet to touch Clint. That was normal for them however, Clint had always tried to maintain professional boundaries considering he already had a crush on the man. If he kept his distance than he was less inclined to act on his emotions.

“Phil looks tired.” he mumbled into Natasha’s leg, letting his eyes track the other man. If this was a dream than he was at least allowed to look as much as he liked. Anyway, Phil would never want him now that he was broken.

“We all have been working to get you back. Phil has been pushing himself like crazy. He was the one who tracked down the base here. I think he would have stormed in and gotten you out himself if we had not pushed him to stick to the plan.” Clint grunted at this, fighting to keep his eyes open, the sun had come up while the medics checked him out and he was exhausted all of a sudden. He jerked suddenly, fighting to sit up and remove the IV they had put in one hand.

“Take it out!” he gasped, fighting to break the hold Natasha had him in before the others could be persuaded to restrain him more. “No drugs. Fuck, don’t…” he trailed off in a whine as the strength started to leave his body, the drugs starting to pull him under.

“Take it out.” Phil’s voice rang out. “What did they give him?”  
“Just a mild sedative to keep him calm. The medics through he might be in shock.” Steve said, voice full of worry.

“Take it out. No one gives him anything without telling him about it first.” Phil was suddenly there, gripping his arm to hold him still so Bruce could take the IV out. Natasha and the others moved away to give them room.

Once his arm was released Clint curled in on himself as much as he could trying to fight against the drug and the adrenaline flooding his system, leaving him shaking in reaction.

“Sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll make sure they don’t give you anything else. Breath Clint.” Phil said firmly, rubbing at his bare shoulders and neck in slow circles. This was familiar. They had done this too many times after the kidnapping from Shield medical, Clint having panic attacks from just the smell of the examination rooms. Clint gave a small cough to clear his throat.

“Am breathing.” he rasped. This was normal, he could do this.

“Well, keep going, too much paperwork to fill out if you stop.” Phil recited with a small fond grin as he supplied the next line in the familiar dialog.

Clint opened his mouth for the next line and could force it past his lips. He shifted, cover his face with one arm, hand gripping his hair hard. He could not do this here. Taking deep shuddering breaths, he fought to control the sobs that wanted to escape. The hand on his back disappeared and was replaced with the feather light touch of Natasha. She stroked down his hair, along his neck and back like she was stroking a cat. He doubted anyone but Phil saw the sheathed blade that she slipped under him. She would not leave her partner without a weapon until they were absolutely safe.

He shuddered, fighting back the panic that was clawing at him. This was safe, this was normal. He felt the jet lift off and could not bite back the whimper that slid from between his clenched teeth, his entire body tensing, waiting for the blow to fall. It took several long moments to remember that Ash was dead, he would not be punishing him here.

He nearly lost the entire front when Natasha swung up and onto the bunk next to him. She froze next to him as he violently flenched away, hands clawing as he tried to protect his head. They had done this hundreds of times, if one of them was hurt the other would lay next to them keeping watch while they slept. He knew that, he did, but all he could feel was the press of Ash against him, his hands on his back.

Natasha pressed the metal of her widow’s bite into the space between his shoulder blades. He froze. He could hear the protests of the others but he forced himself to drop one arm enough to see her. She just watched him back, her normal calm mask in place, eyes dark and serious.

“I’ll keep watch, Hawk.”

He let himself slowly relax, eyes tracking the exits and positions of everyone else, the team looked horrified with only Phil watching on in silent approval. He swallowed thickly, not moving his arms away but letting some of the tension leave his body.

“Codes?” he choked out, needing the verification.

She gave him an approving nod and rattled off the codes they each knew to prove that they were who they said they were. She raised an eyebrow when she finished and it took a breath before he was able to recite his as well. He was safe, the team was really here, they were taking him home.


	11. Ch. 11

 

Clint fall silent on the long trip back to base. There he silently went through test after test to see what could be done for his back. It felt natural to sit back and watch after living silent so long with Ash. The man had no patience with back talk and even a slight deviation in opinion would be met with a fist. Clint had spent most of the months of his confinement in silence, now it was just too hard to find the words to reassure his former team mates.

Finally once he was back in New York he was presented with the paperwork to sign to undergo surgery to fix his back. He refused. They left him alone for a while to let him think it over.

He escaped.  True, he did not exactly get far, just a few rooms down the hall but it was enough to show them he could. After that someone was with him constantly. Really the only reason he had been left alone was because Fury had arrived and demanded a meeting with Phil and the team. The team had returned from the meeting to find him missing and the medical staff frantic. Natasha had smirked and tracked him down in less than a minute. He offered her the second cup of coffee he had made, the doctor’s lounge at least had snacks.

“You’re making the team worry.” She said with a sigh, taking a sip and sitting on the edge of the couch next to him. He shrugged, they weren't his team any more. He had abandoned them. He hadn’t expected them to welcome him back with open arms, he had no idea what to do now. He was useless to them and they wanted him there like he was a lucky charm or mascot. It made his head hurt.

Phil stepped into the room, surveying the scene with a sigh. The man had rarely left Clint’s line of sight since the rescue, helping to keep the archer calm as he was poked and prodded for days on end. The doctors were bandying terms back and forth about situational mutism and psychological trauma. Clint’s constant silence when before he was always ready with a joke or snarking comeback  had the staff talking about forcing the man into psychiatric care by any means necessary. Considering his already abnormal fear of medical care and the fact that he had just been rescued from a forced confinement situation Phil had been able to get Fury’s backing to shelve that option for now.

“The doctors have signed off for you to be discharged until you decide to have the surgery. We can leave whenever you like.” Clint shrugged again, taking another drink of the horrible coffee. He had no where to go anyway.

“Stark wants to offer you a job.” Phil nearly smirked as Clint choked on his coffee. It was the largest reaction they had been able to get out of the man since his rescue weeks before.

“Technically you are listed as retired from Shield but you are still on the books working as an Avenger. Stark wants you to make it official. Shield is also offering you a contract. We can go over the details later if you like.” Clint merely blinked at him, still clearly shocked by both offers.

“I’ll go get his things packed.” Natasha stood, handing off her cup to Phil.

He suppressed a sigh and moved to trash the half full cup, leaning against the wall to watch Clint. The man looked exhausted, maybe even more than he was when they rescued him. He had lost a lot of weight in his time away, most of it muscle but not all. He lost the thin bit of padding that overlaid the muscle covering his short frame, laying bone in sharp relief. His arms were still muscular, showing he had used them nearly constantly but they were thinner. His entire body showed a lean wiry strength when before it had been one of controlled power.

The younger man barely ate or slept. He woke half the floor with his screams when the nightmares hit every few nights or spent a handful of hours dozing. For the first time in eleven years of working with him, Phil was not sure if Clint was going to recover from this or if he even truly wanted to. The medical staff were pushing for him to meet with counselors and therapists which Clint was ignoring as he always did but this time Phil thought it might actually do some good.

Natasha came back in with a duffle bag and a wheelchair. Clint swung himself into the chair with his normal grace but left his legs tangled where they fell against the chair’s legs. Phil knew Clint could not feel the awkward stretch of muscles or the sharp edge of metal cutting into one ankle but he could not stop himself from taking the bag from Natasha and dropping it into Clint’s lap as he settled both feet where they should be.

“Stop giving Shield more reasons to try and sue me, Barton.” Clint blinked at him for a second before giving him a brittle smile and starting to wheel himself out. Natasha raised one eyebrow at him as she pushed past, deliberately striding past Clint with a muttered comment of “Too slow.” making Clint huff and pick up his pace just to keep up with her.

At the tower the team was thankfully absent so they were able to head straight to Clint’s floor. He froze just outside the elevator taking in the changes that had been made in his absence.

“Stark thought we could use some added security to each floor.” Natasha said, moving around both of them and into the new entry way. “Each entryway is sealed and the elevator will not open unless Jarvis allows it to be overridden. The elevator button scans the person’s thumbprint before allowing access. The door requires a palm print, and voice authorization. We will get you set up later.” She said, pressing her hand to the green lighted pad and rattling off a string of numbers. She pushed the door open and went in, heading toward the bedroom to start getting things set up for Clint.

Clint gave a huff of air that somehow managed to convey fond exasperation and followed her in only to once again stop to take in the changes his rooms had undergone. The ceilings had been raised with massive iron beams, bars, and hanging rings filling the extra space. A climbing rope and sloped climbing wall had replaced the back wall. Before his injury it would have been amazing. He could picture himself spending hours flipping and twisting  among the bars and ropes, now it just made him tired. His den was in a sunken area with stairs leading down, now it had both stairs and ramps. Handrails were placed here and there, often finished to match the walls and not stand out.

 

“Stark has been working on your rooms on and off since you left.” Phil said softly, settling his own bag in the hall. He would be staying the night in the guest room to give Natasha some time to get a little uninterrupted sleep and to run some errands the next day. Natasha came out of the bedroom, bending to drop a kiss on Clint’s cheek, ignoring the slight flinch he couldn’t repress.

“The team expects you to join them for dinner. Call me if you need anything, Hawk.”

Clint gave a ragged nod and rolled himself past her and into the bedroom to see what had changed there. Thankfully beyond the turned down bed and laid out pajamas, nothing major seemed to have been altered.

He at least did not have to deal with life in care like everyone had assumed he would need at first. Stark had paid for a nurse to stay with him twenty four hours a day at the base in Scotland. The nurse had watched him deal with every issue himself for three days at the hospital before informing the team that he had things well in hand and might only need someone to stay with him at night, if that.

He wheeled himself into the bathroom and slid the pocket door closed. That was another change, before all the doors were normal, now they were all pocket doors disappearing into the frame when open. The bath was also fairly unchanged beyond a few steel handrails around the toilet.

He maneuvered himself into place and dug through the bag Natasha had left to one side for the supplies he needed. That business taken care of he stripped and got himself back into the chair. He had to suppress the irrational urge to giggle as he took in the utter lack of changes to the shower. A good four feet of tile separated him from the bench in the shower with a four inch lip preventing him from wheeling the wheelchair in. Clint was working up the nerve to try and lower himself onto the tile when Coulson knocked on the door.

“Jarvis said you might need some help, I’m coming in.” Clint managed to whip a towel across his waist before Phil came in still wearing his suit. He glanced from Clint to the shower with blank expression.

“Right. I’m going to pick you up, okay?” Clint managed a tight nod, his cheeks burning. Phil was quick at least, picking up the younger man without moving the towel and setting him down in the middle of the bench.

“One second, let me grab some soap.” He also gave him a washcloth, sponge, and shampoo. “Do you need me to stay?” he asked loosening his tie.

“No.” Clint gasped out, a small shudder wracking his frame, hands gripping the bench white knuckled. There was no way in hell he was going to take a shower with the man he had crushed on for years when he was too broken to even think about letting anyone touch him much less hold him. Phil merely nodded and left room. Jarvis started the spray a moment later. Clint took several deep breaths of the steam filled air before he could make his fingers release the bench, letting his head fall back against the time for a moment.

With a sigh he picked up the washcloth and soap and started to get clean, scrubbing at his skin. He scrubbed his waist hard, turning the skin pink as he memorized exactly where the edge of sensation stopped. With a sigh he tossed the cloth away and quickly washed his hair. One shower head pulsed against the wall next to him allowing him to duck his head and rinse off.

He settled back against the cool tile as Jarvis turned on a smooth flow of hot water to pour across his head and shoulders. He was too screwed up right now to deal with Phil, also. At any other time he would have loved to have Phil’s attention but not now. This was not his first rodeo by any means, nor was Ash his only abuser. He knew what he needed to do to get over it but since working himself into the ground was not an option he was floundering a bit. He was hoping to use the gym tomorrow so that he would be able to at least sleep.

With a snarl he pushed himself off the bench, lowering his body to the tile floor. He quickly pulled himself across the tile and to his chair, the chair almost tipping before he maneuvered himself in with a grunt.

 

“Agent Barton, do you need any assistance? Would you like me to ask Agent Coulson to come in?” Jarvis asked, his voice sounding slightly concerned.

“No, ‘m fine.” Clint gritted out, quickly wiping himself dry and wrapping a towel around his waist.

He wheeled himself out of the bathroom, immediately noticing that several bottles of water and protein shakes had been added to the bedside table. A thick grey henley and a pair of jeans he had always loved sat to one side next to the water. He had lost weight since he last was at the tower so the clothes hung from his frame but it was better than the stiff looking pajamas that Natasha had left out.

Dressed and his feet situated back on the footrests of the wheelchair so that Phil had no reason to approach him Clint made his way back out into the living room. He froze for a moment taking in the khakis and blue button down that the other agent was wearing. He kept forgetting that Phil was now working for Stark Enterprises and not for Shield. The change seemed to have done him good, allowing him to be more relaxed around the others on the team even if he looked just as stressed as he had in his old job. Clint didn’t bother to say anything, just heading towards the door. He might as well get the meet and greet with the team out of the way.

 

“Wait a moment.” Phil murmured getting up and heading back into the bedroom only to return a moment later with a thick pair of socks and unlaced boots. Clint sat frozen as he efficiently tucked the socks onto Clint’s feet and slipped on the boots before gesturing the other man to continue.  

He took a shaky breath before he was able to force himself to wheel the chair past Phil and down the hall to the elevator. He had a near constant chant in his head reminding himself that he could allow Phil at his back, Phil would never hurt him. He couldn’t prevent the sharp about face once he was in the elevator, wedging the chair into one corner so that he could watch the other man and the door as they descended.

 


	12. Ch. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day back at the tower, morning.

They exited the elevator only to find the others scattered around the floor while Steve cooked dinner. Bruce and Natasha sat on opposite ends of one couch while Tony was working with a holographic listing of some kind to one side.

“Katniss! Right on time. You have to rescue the movie selection for tonight! Bruce is insisting on Abyss while the Widow wants to watch Persuasion.” Tony said with a mock shudder. “You’re the deciding vote, buddy boy. What do you want to see after dinner?”

Clint gave a shrug and pushed himself to the side of the couch next to Natasha, leaving the side table between them.

“Do you want to sit next to me?” She asked.

“No.” he murmured, ignoring how everyone’s eyes snapped to him as he fussed with the brakes on the chair more than they needed. See, he could do this, he could be normal.

Phil came around passing out drinks, apparently they were eating on the couch. Of course there was no way he could use the bar in the kitchen like they normally did. Steve came out of the kitchen handing out bowls of spaghetti while Bruce got up to grab the silverware and napkins for everyone, it was very domestic.

They watched Persuasion and Clint watched in amusement as both Bruce and Steve fell asleep after barely ten minutes of screen time. He waited until everyone was firmly entrenched or passed out before making his way to the elevator. He barely got three feet before Phil was shadowing him. Yep, no ditching the baby sitter.

Clint made his way upstairs and went straight to his room. Heading to the bathroom he went through his routine before heading back to the bedroom, not that he was planning to sleep. He had spent every night at the hospital with either Phil or Nat sitting to one side. Now he at least had a door between them but he doubted he would be able to do anything without them coming running.

He maneuvered himself into bed stripping to his boxer and letting the jeans and other clothes fall where they would. He did enjoy launching the boots across the room a bit too much. He lay there and listened to Phil move around the other rooms for a few hours before everything went quiet.

He began carefully laying out the pros and cons of every possible action he could take for the next few weeks just like he would have planned out an op. The surgery could be put off for a few weeks until he got his head on straight and would not try to kill the medical staff while drugged out of his mind. He already had damaged his back and the doctors had at least shown that they brakes were in general healed so he would not be doing any more damage by waiting. Far as he was concerned that meant he could exercise as much as he liked until the next surgery as long as he didn’t injure his back.

He needed to get used to normal life again, or at least as normal as it got for him and the avengers. He had been held by Ash for almost six months if you included the weeks of hospital he had to endure before they finally let him go back to the tower. In most of that time the only ones to talk to him or even touch him were the Doctor, the doctor’s assistant, and Ash. During several of his examinations he was sure that Natasha had been cataloging every new scar that did not match her previous examination over a year and a half before and how each could have been caused.

Natasha was a master of hiding her true reactions in public so he could count on not reacting to any change in his behavior unless it might be harming to him or someone else. He was mostly counting on her to help him in the gym. He knew his limits but until the others saw him as something other than a cripple, they would constantly be rushing in to stop him.

The physical contact was not going to be an issue for now with everyone still treating him like he was made of glass but it could eventually hurt him. He instinctively flinched away from any touch that was not telegraphed in advance. Natasha and Phil had already noticed and adjusted how they approached him. He doubted the others would notice until they managed to get him to freak out over something. He needed to get people to touch him more so that he could get adapted to it but there was no way anyone would be willing to put up with his freak outs and keep coming back. He had tried once or twice in the hospital to reach out to Natasha or Phil and had went into a full blown flashback.

He knew he needed to talk more as well but like the touching it made his entire body tense to even think about it. He had not said more than yes or no to a question in six months. He had trained himself to silence in the first few weeks when any comment no matter how benign resulted in a beating he could not defend himself against. Now he was trying to break that training and it left him gasping for air, bracing for the first blow to fall.

Even trying to sleep was torture. If he was not waking up constantly from nightmares he was fighting to stop tensing in anticipation of Ash coming to bed. He knew Ash was dead, he had watched him bleed out, yet every night when he was almost asleep he lay tense and shaking waiting for the door to open, the hand to stroke his shoulders and back. He had no idea how to fix this beyond the same way he had pushed past it with Ash, exercising until he was able to sleep from sheer exhaustion. He had high hopes for tomorrow.

 

***

 

The next morning he got cleaned up and dressed while it was still dark. He was not surprised to find Phil already dressed in his suit and tie sipping coffee in the kitchen. Phil raised an eyebrow at the tee shirt and sweats he was wearing but didn’t say anything about him being barefoot at least. He took the mug that Phil offered with a nod, sipping at the cup that had been made exactly the way he always liked it, the random things that spies memoried about the people around them.

Phil was working on a starkpad while reading a paper to one side of the table. Clint watched from the corner of his eyes, he wanted to ask Phil what exactly he was working on since he no longer worked for Shield but the words would not come. He forced himself to finish his coffee before unlocking the chair and turning toward the elevator.

“Did you want something to eat?” Phil asked softly as he gathered up the paper and tablet, easily following Clint, still sipping on his coffee. Clint shook his head, managing to force out, “Gym.” as he hit the appropriate button.  

He made no move to stop Clint as he wheeled himself onto the mats to one side, heading to one of the benches and pulling out his Starkpad. The gym at least had not changed at all. He was not really surprised when Natasha walked in just as he managed to lower himself to the mats. He gave her a nod and rolled himself a bit farther away from the chair. There were no parallel bars here but he could at least do pushups or situps for a while.

“Do you want to stretch today or spar?” Natasha asked, face bland.

Clint heard Phil sputter around his sip of coffee in the background as he grinned at his work partner. He felt giddy from the flush of relief and love for Natasha. She could treat him like nothing had changed because in her eyes nothing had, he had already proved that he was just as deadly so it was a moot point. Yes, she could take him out in three seconds but she had always been able to do that so nothing had really changed in that part of his life at least. He gave her a shrug and glanced around trying to decide if he could even use any of the equipment.

“What did you use before?” she asked, moving to one side to gather weights, stretch bands, and a few towels.

“Parallel bars.” Slipped out before he could even register that he was talking to her with no effort. He hunched in on himself for a moment, trying to ride out the instinct to flinch from the expected blow. This was Natasha, she would not hit him for talking. Natasha simply came back and settled in his line of site, laying the gear to one side.

“Want me to hold your ankles for sit ups?” she asked with a grin. He opened his mouth to retort but could not force the snarky words out, choking on air after a moment. Natasha simply let him sit and shudder for a moment before raising her hands and signing to him in ASL.

- _Would this be easier?_ -

Clint watched her his mind whirling for a moment, half remembered lessons warring with six months of conditioning. His hands shook when he carefully signed out his response, his body a long line of tension as he fought to control his breathing.

- _You can sit on legs, won’t notice_.-  

Natasha merely beamed at him for a moment before she started doing leg lifts using ankle weights. Clint simply watched for several long moments, his arms wrapped around his chest as he fought back the tears that wanted to fill his eyes. Forcing himself to move he grabbed a pair of weights, laying back and starting doing arm curls and presses.

Phil continued to watch from one side. Internally he was jumping for joy that Clint was already making so much progress but his face was in it’s normal bland mask if you ignored the slight upturn to one side of his mouth. This was why he had pushed to get the archer home, he needed his friends and family around him for this.


	13. Ch. 13

Clint and Natasha worked out in the gym until it was time for lunch. Natasha had finished the floor exercises looking as cool and collected as she always did but Clint was a mess of sweat and breathing hard. His conditioning had been utterly shot in his six months of confinement. He had lost muscle tone more than he had gained any fat, his body was still lean and thin, just not as strong as he was used to. He would have to work on correcting that now.

Phil left the gym after an hour heading to his office in the tower to get some work done for the day, trusting Natasha to keep Clint relatively safe for a few hours. If he set an alert with Jarvis if Clint seemed injured in any way than it was just him being a bit overprotective. Clint and Natasha separated in the elevator, Clint exiting on his floor and Natasha continuing up to her own floor to clean up. Clint took another shower, this time giving a steady stream of No’s to Jarvis so that he would be left alone. He could take care of himself fine, thanks.

It was time for lunch but Clint hesitated to head down to the common area. He had gotten dressed in a tee-shirt and jeans again, even managing to fight on a pair of socks and boots so Phil would not have a reason to complain...or touch him unnecessarily. Natasha must have seen how vulnerable he had been feeling after his struggle to talk and she had left him to exercise alone, only forcing a bottle of water before she put up the gear they had used.

Clint was not sure how he was going to deal with the rest of the team. Everyone had given him his space in the hospital. The team showed up for a few hours each day in between his tests often simply sitting to one side and reading for a while to keep him company, whether he wanted it or not. Tony, of course, showed up randomly and spent a few hours talking a mile a minute about his latest inventions. Clint even managed to fall a sleep a few times to the string of babble, waking up an hour or two later to Phil or someone else having replaced Tony.

With a sigh he wheeled his chair into the elevator, pressing the button for the communal floor, he might as well get this over with. Downstairs most of the others were already gathered in the kitchen around the new round table that had been set to one side. One place setting was missing a chair, clearly his spot, he noted, suppressing a sigh.

“Sorry, it was Tony’s turn to cook.” Steve said gesturing to the high bar that was covered with boxes of pizza.

“No problem.” Clint managed, sliding into his spot next to Phil.

“What does everyone want to drink?” Bruce asked, sitting a cup of tea at his place and a large glass of water in front of Steve.

“Water’s fine.” Phil said, “Clint?” Clint merely nodded, it did not really matter what he had to drink. He was fine with water. Phil nudged him and waited while Clint looked back clearly unsure of what he wanted.

“Is water okay or do you want something else?” Phil pressed.

“It’s good.” Clint choked out, tense from being put on the spot.

He fought to control his breathing and his instinct to bolt as the others quickly filled their plates and settled back down. Natasha dropped a plate with several slices of pizza in front of him just as he was reaching for the break locks to his chair. She settled in to the chair on the other side of him. He gave her a tiny brittle smile thanks and forced himself to unfold his napkin and drop it into his lap. The conversation flowed around him as he picked at his food. He knew he needed to eat more but the last thing he wanted to do right now was eat.

Clint nearly jumped out of his chair as Tony came barrelling in talking non-stop giving Clint a hearty slap on the back for making it to lunch before he pulled his own plate and sat down never stopping the constant stream of words. Clint sat hunched, wondering if Tony realized just how close he had come to killing him. He knew Natasha at least had seen the knife he pulled for an instant and maybe Phil but he doubted the rest of the table realized it.

Natasha let him see her moving before she bumped his elbow, giving him a slight smile. Right, let it go. With a small grimace he picked up a slice of pizza and nibbled until Bruce declared that he had to get back to the lab. Clint followed, clearing his place and placing the dish in the sink along with Bruce’s before he caught the elevator back to his rooms. He had paperwork to go over.

Five hours later he was dragged from the paperwork scattered across the carpet by Jarvis informing him it was time for dinner. Snarling under his breath, Clint clawed his way back into the chair with a fist full of paperwork. He fought his way one handed to the elevator and punched for the common floor. It just made it worse that he could not force the curse words out, adding to the tension.

Rolling into the living room part of the floor he thrust the paperwork at where Phil was sitting with Natasha on the couch. He had changed from his suit at some point, making Clint look at him closer. Normally Phil would be still at his desk in Shield at six in the afternoon. Now, he was dressed in jeans and a button down looking relaxed.

“This is the contract for Shield.” Phil said flipping through the stack. Clint pointed to the section he had marked with brackets.

“I will see about getting it changed. Are you considering going back to Shield?” He asked, tucking the papers to one side.

Clint shrugged in response, he had went through only about half of the contract for Stark Industries but it seemed sound. The Shield contract was what had him fuming. They were asking him to sign away most of his basic rights as an employee, he would be constantly listed as a security threat and would only be given access to files that he needed to do his job.

They were writing him off after eleven years of service. Yeah, he had technically deserted duty twice even if he had been mentally compromised but he had expected his high mission success rate and years of service to count for something. He wanted to rant and scream about it but instead he was sitting silently shaking, arms wrapped around himself pressing down hard as he tried to hold himself together.

 

“What do you need?” Phil asked, suddenly kneeling in front of him. Clint bared his teeth at the other man yet only managed to force out a choked whine as he shook even worse.

“Shield is full of assholes. It’s a known fact at this point, Clint. They do not deserve your loyalty.”

Clint gasped out a short laugh that sounded more like a sob yet it let him manage to pull himself together slightly. Hell, he wanted to be able to sign fuck, shit, and about a hundred other words in several languages but he didn’t know the signs. Shakily he spelled out -Fuckers- one handed, getting a small grin from Phil.

“Tasha?” he rasped, wanting to be able to ask more and not having the words. God he hated this. Maybe he could type out all the questions he had and get Phil to answer and email or something.

“Without Coulson or you I had no reason to stay, Hawk.” Natasha said from one side. Clint gave her a shaky nod in response.

“Natasha is working under Stark Industries and consulting part time with Shield. I helped set up her contract. I’ll rework yours if you want and let Stark’s lawyers look for loopholes.”

“‘Kay.” he bit out, struggling to not slump in exhaustion as he took deliberate slow deep breaths.

“Ready for some dinner?” Bruce asked from one side making Clint twitch, he had actually forgotten the others were even in the room. Fuck, he was out of practice. He had to do better than this.

Struggling he pulled himself more upright in his chair ignoring how Bruce was watching him with a concerned expression. Dr. Banner might not be a medical doctor on paper but Tony had arranged for all of them to get as many certifications in Emergency Medical care as they could. Bruce had taken it a step farther, arranging to take accelerated night classes at a local medical school and completing everything except his residencies and knowing Tony that would be completed even if he had to buy a hospital to do so.

“What are we having tonight, Bruce?” Phil asked getting up and heading into the kitchen.

Clint couldn’t hear Bruce’s reply as he took another breath and shakily unlocked his chair. Wheeling himself into the kitchen he made his way to the table and took his spot. A moment later Natasha slid into the spot next to him, sliding a tablet in front of him as she did. It showed a copy of her contract. He gave her a brittle smile and slid it back to her, he couldn’t deal with this right now. Once dinner was over he escaped back to his rooms, heading straight to bed. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

 

***

 

Phil stepped into Clint’s bedroom as quietly as he could, drawn by the steady sounds coming from Clint’s throat. Clint thrashed in his sleep, whining low in his throat, he was trapped in a nightmare. His hair dark with sweat as he shuddered and jerked against an unseen attacker, twisting in the sheets that wrapped him.

 

Clint shuddered as Ash stroked along his chest, “Always so responsive.” he purred into his ear before biting hard into the side of his neck, drawing blood.

 

Clint woke with a gasp, body arching and then immediately curling in on himself, body shuddering with sobs. Phil reacted without thought striding over and settling on one side of the bed. He ignored the initial flinch from the smaller man when he touched his shoulder and then pulled him into his lap, stroking down his back and through his hair. Clint lay stiff in his arms for several seconds and Phil was afraid he had went to far and was about to let the other man go when he finally relax into Phil, wrapping one arm around his waist and starting to cry in earnest.

 

“I’m sorry.” Phil murmured once Clint’s tears had subsided.

Clint just gripped him tighter for a moment before he managed to choke out, “Needed it. Can’t…” He gasped for air, and Phil rubbed his back for a moment.

“Jarvis can you increase the lights 30%?” In response the light simply came up to a dim glow. “Would it be easier if you signed it to me?” Phil asked Clint.

After a moment Clint let go and shifted so that he was straddled between Phil’s legs on his back with his hands free.

-Need it.- he signed shakily. -Need to be touched, get used to it again.-

“Do you want me to try and touch you more?” Clint violently shook his head. Phil fought to suppress the longing that filled him at the idea and how it hurt when Clint rejected it so violently.

-Want too much.- That made Phil blink.

“You don’t want me to touch you because you want it too much? You want to be in a relationship with me?” A shudder ran through Clint at this as he again shook his head.

-Can’t.-

“Why can’t you? Clint…” Phil struggled for what seemed like the first time in years to get the words right. “I have wanted to be with you for years now.” he managed, feeling Clint twist to look at him. “When you were hurt in the building collapse I almost told you but I thought you needed to heal first. We found you in Scotland just a few days before you were taken, I quit Shield as soon as we had a location. They wanted you burn you if they spotted you, so I had to make sure I found you first.” Phil shifted slightly pulling the younger man tighter against him for a second before he let go except for the hand carding through Clint’s hair.

“There was no reason for you to want an old worn out agent like me anyway but I thought I had to try. I understand if you don’t want to be in a relationship right now but I would like to be here for you, if you want me to be.”

-Can’t, broken.- Clint signed, arching like he was trying to move away, his face still wet with tears and twisted with tension.

“You are never broken, Clint. You are amazing.” Phil muttered, his cheeks red as he pulled the archer back to him and started stroking through his hair again. “I know now is not the best time to try and start a relationship but I am willing to try. Do you want that?”

“Yes.” Clint gasped shuddering, his mouth opening again before he raised his hands.

-I am broken, can’t give…-

“I don’t need sex, Clint. I just want to be here with you, like this. We can work up to the rest of it later.” Clint shuddered against him, fighting against the instinct to flee.

“Okay.” he whispered, turning and wrapping his arms back around Phil’s waist. “Okay.”

“Later we need to talk boundaries and what you are okay with but for now do you want me to hold you while you sleep?”

“Like this?”

“If you want it like this, yes.”

“Please?”

“Always.” Phil pulled another pillow behind his back and toed off the loafers he was wearing before tugging the comforter back over both of them. Sifting slightly so he was reclining a bit more, he relaxed as he felt Clint curl into his chest.

 

***

 

Clint did not know how to react the next morning, saying nothing as Phil helped untangle the sheet from around his legs. He at least let Clint get in the chair by himself and left him to his shower. When Clint wheeled into the kitchen almost an hour later the table had been set and Phil was seated reading from his Starkpad. A blueberry muffin and glass of orange juice sat at the place next to him, clearly waiting on Clint. Clint signed -Weird- at him when he finished locking his chair at the table.

“I thought normal was overrated. Has that changed?” Clint merely made a face at him before sipping at his juice.

“We do need to talk later, unless you want to get it over with now?” Clint shrugged and picked up his muffin, tearing it into several pieces before taking a bite.

“We both agreed that sex is off the table for now. Should kissing be as well?”

Clint froze for a moment considering. Did he want to kiss Phil? Of course. Would it trigger something? He had no idea. Ash had rarely kissed him unless you counted the bite marks he liked to litter across Clint’s chest and back.

“How about this, anything that you are very against doing?”

“Pain.” Clint rasped out, pushing his muffin away. Phil watched him do so with a slight wince, Clint had never exactly been one to eat breakfast so it was not that extreme a reaction.

“You know I would never hurt you, Clint. I don’t want to hurt you.” Clint gave a shaky nod and that and picked up his glass taking several small gulps.

“We can see as we go.” Phil said, trying to sooth the rattled man. “Are you heading to the gym again?” Clint nodded at this, reaching to unlock his chair.

“I know the team wants to do lunch with you but would you like to do dinner with me?” Clint swallowed visibly before he managed to nod again, pushing his chair down the hall and to the elevator. Phil let him go, after last night they both needed a bit of space.


	14. Ch. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint overhears something he shouldn't have and has to be talked down.

Clint pressed the button for the elevator from the gym. He was covered in sweat and wanted a shower and to spend the afternoon going over the contracts he had been offered.  
“Agent Barton, may I ask where you are headed?” Jarvis asked softly making Clint glance up slightly at the interruption.  
“To the kitchen for a drink. I need some food for my rooms or something.” Clint muttered, mind still running over the files that Phil had left for him. The contract with Stark was looking better and better.  
“I might recommend that you head to one of the other floors, Agent? The kitchen is currently in use.”  
“I’m just getting something to drink, Jarvis. I’m not going to interrupt. Open the elevator already or I’m going to take the stairs.”  
“As you wish, Agent Barton.” Jarvis said sounding somehow reluctant. The elevator smoothly dropped him off at the common level, Clint absently noting that there was no normal ding when the door opened. Clint got half way out of the elevator before the argument in the kitchen registered.

“You can’t push him like that! He’ll start back when he’s ready!” Tony insisted, gesturing wildly.  
Steve snarled back at him, face lined with anger, “You didn’t watch him crawling across the floor covered in blood! You didn’t see the three bodies he left behind! He needs to train with the team so that we all get used to having him back in the action. He can’t be flinching from us in battle! Most of us are afraid he’s going to kill us if we say the wrong thing anyway!”  
“Speak for yourself!” Tony snarled, stepping up into Steve’s face.

Clint frantically backed his chair into the elevator, slapping the button for his floor. They didn’t seem to notice. He pushed himself out into the living room on his floor, his mind in a whirl. Steve thought he was going to hurt the team, attack them. He was a trained killer, even now, he could not deny that. If startled he would go for the kill, Steve at least was right in that.  
He waved Jarvis away when he inquired how he was. Making a snap decision he went to one of the control panels on the wall and reset his privacy settings, only allowing Natasha and Phil onto his floor without his express permission. Normally something like this would have driven him to somewhere high and quiet to think. Clint eyes the climbing wall for a second but forced himself to look past it. He might be able to climb that high with just his arms but he had no way to compensate for the dead weight of his legs if he lost his balance.  
With a small sigh he made his way into the bedroom. He grabbed a few blankets and pillow and took them into the oversized closet that sat mostly empty. Clint pulled the door closed behind him before locking his chair and tossing the blankets in one corner. He lowered himself to the floor and crawled into his makeshift nest, setting a knife to one side. He signed -Light- on a hunch and snorted a moment later when they went out, leaving him in the pitch black darkness of the small room. Only Tony would have cameras in the closets, he thought with a sigh, letting his body go limp as sleep overtook him.  
He woke several hours later when the lights came on dimly as Natasha came in.  
“It’s time for lunch if you’re hungry. Bruce made beef stew and bread.” she said settling down next to him, one hand stroking through his short hair. She had cut it for him as soon as the doctors had given her the okay. “What drove you into hiding, Hawk? I almost went looking in the vents.” He gave a soft snort at that pulling himself up so that he was propped up on the wall next to her.  
“Closest.” he said with a bitter smile.  
“And what drove the Hawk to nest?” She asked with a teasing grin.  
“Steve.” he managed before his voice locked up making his body tense in reaction, muscles shivering, waiting for a blow.   
“Steve said something?” she asked gently, moving so that they were pressed knee to shoulder. Clint nodded raggedly. He raised his hands to sign but didn’t know all the signs. He made a small sound of helpless frustration.  
“Would Jarvis be able to tell me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the ceiling when Clint nodded.  
“I am afraid my programming does not let me replay recordings made in the tower without Sir’s express permission however I can say that Sir and the Captain were in an argument that centered around the Captain expressing concern that Agent Barton might be likely to attack a team member during a flashback.” Natasha cursed under her breath.  
“Hawk, Steve does not know you the way Phil and I do.”  
“Afraid.” Clint said, the unspoken “of me.” hanging there in the silence.  
“I thought we had agreed that having people afraid of us was a good thing?” Natasha tried to joke.  
“Not team.”  
“No, the team should not be afraid of you.” Natasha agreed with a small sigh. “Phil or I will talk to Steve. He doesn’t understand how we are trained. I’ll set him straight, Hawk.”  
“Okay.” Clint managed pulling himself out of the pile of blankets and dragging his body across the floor to his chair. Natasha watched him in silence as he manhandled himself into the chair and arranged his legs, she folded the blankets and carrying the stack back out into the bedroom.  
“Jarvis, can you please ask Phil to bring dinner up here? I think we will be having dinner on Clint’s floor, just the three of us, like old times?” She asked raising one eyebrow at Clint who merely waved her on, he was too exhausted to care at the moment.  
“Of course, Agent Romanov. Team Handler Coulson has agreed and will be up shortly.”   
“Thank you, Jarvis.” she said setting down the blankets and turning back to face Clint. “Do you want to get cleaned up before we have dinner?”   
Clint gave a tired shake of his head but did make his way to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. Natasha eyed him with a slightly concerned look when he made his way into the small kitchen. Phil was already there laying out bowls of stew and thick slices of bread already slathered with butter.  
He took his place at the table, sipping at a glass of water while the others finished laying out the meal. The last thing he would have thought to be was hungry after everything but he scrapped his bowl clean, eating both his and Natasha’s bread. They talked nonsense over dinner, past missions and favorite meals. Well, Phil and Natasha talked and Clint grunted in the most of the right places. They had similar meals on too many ops for it not to be relaxing.  
They moved to the den area to watch a movie afterward. Natasha taking a chair while Phil settled on one side of the couch. Clint forced himself to move before he could react and dropped his head onto Phil’s lap, wrapping one arm around his hips, and letting the other loosely grip one of his legs. Phil went still beneath him for a moment before raising one hand to rub at his shoulder. Clint slowly relaxed into the couch as the movie played. See, he could do this relationship thing, this was okay.

***

The next morning Clint woke early thanks to the extra hours of sleep he had gotten the day before. He got up and went about his normal bathroom routine before pulling on jeans and a teeshirt and falling back into bed. Dragging out his tablet he began researching. Hours later he was sitting in front of one wall, covered in projections of articles and videos thanks to Jarvis when Phil came to get him for breakfast.  
“You’ve been busy.” Phil observed with a small quirk of his lips taking in the papers scattered around where the archer was sprawled in the floor. Clint happily signed one of his new words at him, getting a small snort in response. Of course Phil knew how to curse in ASL.  
“Can I ask Jarvis for a recap or are you up to it?” Phil asked sitting down on the bed to scan the open documents. Clint just handed him the tablet pulled up to the relevant document.  
“Jarvis?” Clint asked, glancing up, eyes picking out the well hidden speakers on habit.  
“Of course, Agent Barton. The Agent has been researching various sites and volumes on learning sign language and ordered several books that will arrive tomorrow. He has been reviewing Sir’s job offer and comparing it to how Agent Romanov’s contract is set up. He has also been accessing various banking and stock market accounts and consolidating his accounts.” Phil raised an eyebrow at the last one, making Clint shrug.   
If Tony had not already hacked most of this accounts by this point there was no point hiding his multiple alias’ from the team any more. It was not like he was going to be doing much undercover work for at least a year or two. He had given a list of his most frequent alias’ to Jarvis earlier and pointed out a few of the ops he had worked on when he first came to Shield. Tony could do the rest if he wanted to.  
Phil scanned the tablet he had been given and was impressed just from the amount of work it represented. Page after page of questions had been typed up. There was a chart of things that Clint would/might/never be comfortable doing in a relationship and those that he thought they could work on. This would have taken him hours of work typing on the tablet.  
“I have to go into to SI today for several meetings but we can go over this later tonight if you like?”  
“Yes.” Clint said with a small smile, he was determined that today would be a good day. If he had to avoid most of the team to make it that way then so be it.  
“Do you want breakfast or are you heading straight to the gym? I was thinking about making pancakes.”  
“Pancakes would… be... good.” Clint stuttered, as he pulled himself into his chair.   
He eventually needed to get a better chair if he was going to have to keep almost tipping the thing. He absently added it to his list of things to research later, scrawling out a note with one finger on the touch sensitive screen once he was settled. Knowing Tony he was already working on designs for a chair that launched rockets or something anyway.  
“I’ll see you in the kitchen.” Phil said tucking the tablet under his arm as he stood.   
Clint flinched slightly when Phil pressed a light kiss to his temple before heading to the kitchen. Touching, right. There had to be an easier way to get used to this. He headed into the bathroom to take a shower and get changed before he went to face Phil.  
Breakfast was thankfully relaxed. Phil only gave a small frown when Clint didn’t finish his pancakes but didn’t say anything about it at least. Clint didn’t really like to eat right before he exercised and normally put off any kind of food until lunch most of the time. He made his way to the gym after a murmured thanks to Phil. Natasha was already waiting for him with a look of expectation.

“Just a short workout today, Hawk. I have a surprise for you.” Natasha said with a smirk, tossing down several hand weights next to him. He was surprised when she gathered everything after only an hour, pushing his chair over next to him.  
“In a hurry.” He pointed out, with a small grin as he pulled himself into the chair.   
She made her way to the elevator and pressed for a floor making sure to lean against the panel so he could not see which floor they were headed to. He knew where they were however as soon as the door opened, there was no way to hide the layout of a gun range. Natasha walked to one of the back tables used for reloading and cleaning weapons and gestured for him to choose.  
The table was full. An unloaded handgun and clip sat to one side next to a rifle and box of shells. Two of the bows he had left at the tower sat strung and ready to use. The wooden recurve that he’d abandoned in Scotland sat at the far end making his breath hitch. He knew that they had found the cabin but he had assumed that everything had been destroyed.  
“I found it under the bed. The other two bows I saw were broken.” Natasha said gently setting a quiver of arrows down to one side. Clint nodded, he remembered that part.   
He had taken out all but ten or fifteen attackers when they managed to breach the house. He took out a few more before he was forced to surrender just from sheer numbers. Disarmed of his visible weapons and dragged to the center of the room to face the team leader. He was compared to a photo that the large man had before he was knocked unconscious at his gesture. He must have been drugged as well to ensure his cooperation before he was taken to the Ordinary Man and his goons.  
Clint carefully picked up the wooden recurve testing the string and draw for a moment before he gathered up the quiver. He had no idea how he was going to have to adjust his shooting position since he was shooting seated. He wheeled himself into one of the shooting lanes and pulled on his glove and arm guard.   
He tried to scoot himself into a position that would let him draw the bow without the back of the chair interfering. After he almost flipped the chair twice, Natasha stepped forward to anchor the chair while he took a shot. While he hit the target, his aim was off by almost half a foot and the strike weak. He would need to do a massive amount of strength training with his arms but just drawing the bow again and practicing would help a good bit.   
Giving a small huff he took another shot, and then another. An hour later he was hitting the target dead on and Natasha let go of the chair to let him rebalance himself and start again. She finally called a halt four hours later when it was almost time for lunch. His entire body hurt from the strain of drawing the bow and he was fairly certain he was sitting in a pool of sweat.  
He gave her a grin in thanks however when he got off on his floor. He had really needed the chance to prove to himself that he could still shoot. He made his shaky way into the bathroom intending to shower before lunch before he realized his problem. His arms were shaking just pushing himself in the chair, he would never be able to get himself into the shower and back out.  
“Jarvis?” He managed, tugging at his sweat soaked shirt.  
“How can I assist you, Agent Barton?”  
“Phil?”  
“Team Handler Coulson is currently downstairs. Would you like me to ask him to come assist you?”  
“Yes, thanks.” Clint stuttered, heading back to his room to gather some clothes for afterwards. It only took a few minutes for Phil to join him, still wearing his suit from this morning.  
“I take it you needed help?”  
“Yeah. Need a shower.” Clint muttered not looking at the other man as he plucked at his sweat soaked clothes.  
“You did too much in the gym.” He said with a put upon frown that barely masked the slight smile making his lips twitch.  
“Range.” Clint corrected with a grin.  
“Should have known.” Phil said with a mock sigh, taking off his jacket and tie before rolling up his sleeves. He followed Clint back into the bathroom, letting the other man pull off his shirt before he moved farther into the room.  
“Would it bother you if I joined you?” He asked, adding, “I’m free for the rest of the day.” when Clint looked at him startled. “I can keep my boxers on if it would help.” He offered when it looked like Clint was not going to answer.  
“Okay.” Clint murmured still slightly shocked that the other man even wanted to see him naked much less share a shower with him.   
He watched in the mirror as the other man stripped efficiently to his boxer, clothes folded and set to one side. He had seen Phil naked or at least partly naked many times on ops they did together but this was different. This time he was allowed to look.   
He cataloged the different scars that he knew from missions, the ones he had stitched up in the field and the ones that had resulted in him holding pressure as Natasha drove like a mad man to get them to the pick up point. The ranger tattoo on one arm was maybe a smidge more faded since he had last seen it but the arm it was on was still fit. The rest of Phil was rather fit, normally hidden behind his slightly loose suits. Clad only in his boxer he came to kneel next to Clint’s chair. 

“Can I?” he asked tugging gently at Clint’s sweat pants.   
Clint forced himself to take a deep lungful of air as he nodded. He pushed himself up with shaking arms as Phil eased the sweat pants down and off his hips. He had not bothered with boxers that morning and Phil’s thumbs trailed down his bare hips as he pushed the material down. He gently removed each leg before folding the pants and adding them to the pile of clothes to one side.

“Ready?” Phil asked as he stood and moved to one side ready to pick up the younger man.  
“Yes.” Clint said, swallowing as Phil easily lifted him bridal style.   
Clint gripped at his muscular shoulders as he was carried the few feet of tile into the bathroom and settled on the bench. Phil stepped back out to gather the soap and shampoo before straddling the bench next to Clint.   
Phil added bodywash to a washcloth as the water turned on. Clint reached for it, only for Phil to pull back.  
“Let me?” Phil asked, for once looking unsure.   
Clint frowned but gave a slow nod shifting to lean back against the wall behind him. Phil carefully washed Clint’s chest and arms, moving in slow firm circles. He shifted to crouch next to the other man and washed his legs in the same way. Clint slowly relaxed into it. He massaged shampoo into Clint’s hair, getting him to tilt his head back so that he can rise it with smooth cupfuls of warm water.  
Phil stood next to Clint once he finished with his hair and Clint grabbed the abandoned washcloth. He carefully soaped and cleaned what he could reach of one arm before tugging the man down to sit next to him. Clint had been carefully ignoring the fact that Phil was half hard since he stripped outside the shower, he’s not sure if he’s ready to deal with that yet. He focused instead on each long line of muscle under his hands and the scars that litter his handler’s body. Once he finished with Phil’s arms and chest, Clint picked up the shampoo and carefully massaged it into the other man’s scalp.   
“Can you rinse?” he asked, trailing soapy hands down his chest just to feel the wiry chest hair there for a moment. Phil gave a hum of agreement and shifted on the bench so that he could rinse the soap out of his hair.  
“Really want to kiss you right now.” Clint glanced down realizing the other man was now fully hard, his cock pressed against his stomach.  
“Okay.” Clint said with a small sigh, letting Phil come to him.   
He was surprised how gentle it was. Just a gentle movement of lips against each other while Phil stroked the back of his head and shoulders. He let himself melt into the touches, his own hands coming up to grip Phil’s hips. They had been kissing for some time still slow and gentle but with the occasional swipe of tongue or nip of teeth. Clint arched, moaning slightly into the soft press of lips and teeth.   
Suddenly he was pushing away hard, gasping for air. He watched from his sprawl on the bench as Phil’s mask came back up, hiding his shock and disappointment. Clint gripped at the bench and wall, his body shaking with shudders as he fought with his reactions.  
“Not you, not…” He gasped for breath as he tried to press the memories back down. “Was good.”  
“Can I ask what...triggered you?” Phil said staying carefully still.  
“I got hard.” Clint managed to rasp, a blush flooding his cheeks as he gave in and shut his eyes, small shudders still wracking his frame as he willed his breathing to slow. Ash is dead, it’s Phil. Ash is dead, he repeated as he fought to pull himself upright. Phil twitched, clearly unsure if he should be helping him or not right now.  
“Can we…” Clint coughed, trying to get the words out, his body too tense, locking up his lungs and throat. He gestured weakly toward the door.  
“Will you be okay if I carry you out into the bedroom?” Phil asked pulling on a white terry cloth robe and holding out another. Clint shakily nodded as he managed to get his arms in the robe and let if fall lose around him. Clint lay stiff in the other man’s arms as he was carried out and set down gently upon his bed.  
“I’ll leave you to get dressed.” Phil murmured heading back into the bathroom to gather up the clothes. He left Clint’s change of clothes next to him and took the dirty clothes out with him, closing the door behind him. Clint used to robe to finish drying off before he got dressed and into the wheelchair left next to the bed.   
He sagged with relief when the other man was not in the living room as he wheeled himself out. The door to Phil’s room was closed and he could faintly hear the sound of the shower. That made Clint flush more, he hoped he had not pushed the other man into jerking off in the shower.  
He wheeled himself to the couch, pulling himself onto the L shaped extension so he could lay on his stomach and still see the TV. Tugging his tablet over next to him from where it was hidden in the bag on the back of his chair he pulled up the list of questions he had started for Phil. He was not surprised to see that Phil had already started to answer some of the questions, hyperlinks glowing purple where there was too much text to fit in one document.  
Phil had even added to the chart Clint had made about what might be okay for a relationship while they were trying. Of course, he probably wanted to shelve that idea now that he had seen Clint freak out in the shower. Clint shoved the tablet away, pulling himself back into his chair. He couldn’t deal with this kind of shit right now. He wanted to crawl back into the closet to hide but he knew that was not an option. Instead he headed to Natasha’s floor.

She opened the door with a slight smirk. “Hiding again?”  
He shrugged in response, wheeling past her and onto her floor. He was surprised at how open similar the lay out was, only the sunken den area was missing. He waited for her to come around to face him, raising his hands to sign as he did but he couldn’t make his hands move. He bit his lip, staring at the floor as he tried to sort out the signs in his head.  
“What do you need, Hawk?” She asked gently, her face as serious as when she was on a mission. Somehow that helped and he was able to get his shaking hands to cooperate.  
-Hold me?-  
“Here on the couch?”  
-Bed?-  
“You only have to ask, Clint. Come.” she said gesturing for her to follow her into the bedroom. “You’re not sleeping well.” she said as he locked the chair next to her low bed and then let himself tumble out of it earning a snort as she helped him straighten his legs once he finished crawling to the pillows. She snuggled up behind him, guiding his hand so that it rested on the knife sheathed at her hip. He knew she would have one hand on the knife he kept on one leg as well.  
Clint woke up several hours later feeling like his head was full of cotton. Natasha sat to one side reading. She waited for him to pull himself up to sit against the headboard before she handed him a still warm mug of tea.  
“Coulson had to go back to SI for a few meetings. He said he would talk to you after dinner. Do I need to kill him when he gets back?”  
Clint blinked up at her in shock for a moment before shaking his head.  
-Bad day. Thanks for the range and bed.- he signed once he had set his cup to the side, still slouched against the headboard. He rested his head against her side for a handful of breaths before he pulled himself together and back towards his chair. He had barely been back at the Tower for two weeks. He needed to do better than this.  
“Can you tell me what happened?” Natasha asked softly, making Clint pause, his back and arms flexing as he gripped the arms of his chair too hard, not pulling himself into the chair yet.  
“Phil.” He choked, fighting to get enough air in his lungs. “Ash.”  
“You can sign if you need to.” Natasha reminded him gently.   
When he pulled himself together enough to glance up at her she patted the spot next to her in invitation. Clint gave a shaky nod and pulled himself back against her side, arms twining around her waist, much like he had held Phil before. Clint let himself sink into her warmth and the soothing pull of her smell for a long moment before he tried again.  
“I got...hard with Phil.” he said roughly, “Kissing.”  
“Was this a bad thing? Was the kissing bad?”  
“No, liked it.” Clint said, tightening his arms around her as she stroked one hand through his hair. “Ash...Ash liked to force me... cum.” he stuttered against her waist. He felt Natasha still against him.  
“If I could bring him back so that we could kill him again, I would, Hawk.”  
“I know.” he sniffed. “I couldn’t fight him, Tasha. I had to wait.”  
“It was a mission, Hawk. You had to gain the mark’s trust before you could complete the objective. One thing I can guarantee you is that Phil would cut his own arm off before he tried to hurt you. He was upset at himself when he left. He did not mean to push you too fast.”  
“It’s not too fast, Tash. I’m just broken.”  
“We are all broken, Hawk. We just have to figure out how to hold each other without cutting our partners.”  
“Hard.”  
“Yes, and it takes practice. You and Phil are just trying to find the edges right now is all. It will get easier.”  
“When’d you get this smart?”  
“When I decided to make this a home instead of just a place to sleep.” She said bluntly, her face blank as her masks slid firmly back into place. “We have a good team. We work well together and we learned how to work around the damage we each have. We shore each other up.”   
Clint twisted slightly to watch his partner, noting the small tells that told of how much it was costing her to talk this way even if there was only him to hear.  
“I learned a team could make you stronger than when you are alone from you and Phil. We were a good team and with the others we will be even stronger.” Clint huffed softly in her arms.  
“You still think you have no value to the team. That is why you ran, yes?” she did not bother waiting for an answer, only pulling her back against him when he tried to move away continuing to talk as he struggled before finally giving in and slumping back down at her side. “The team sees what you offer even if you have to give up being an Agent. Tony is probably already designing a suit for you to use. Or we could have you in the quinjet being our eyes on high. Or you could run the ops from here, working as a handler. You could even give it up completely if you wanted, find a new skill to learn. It’s your choice, Hawk, but that does not mean the team will be leaving you alone, you will always be an Avenger whether or not you wear the uniform. Broken or whole, Hawk.”  
Clint crumpled against her, shoulders shaking as he cried. Natasha held him until he finally cried himself to sleep in exhaustion.


	15. Ch. 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Phil comfort Clint.

Clint woke some time later hearing voices in the other room. He pulled himself into his chair, rolling into the bathroom to get cleaned up. He dried his face and dripping hair before wheeling himself out into the main room. Natasha and Phil sat at the kitchen bar which was piled with white containers of chinese.

“Do you want some Chinese or ramen? Phil ordered in.”

Clint gave a shrug and went to the fridge for a drink, pulling out a bottle of juice. He was exhausted even if he had slept half the day away. His head felt stuffed with cotton and his chest hollowed out, he was numb. He fumbled with bottle for a moment before Natasha pulled it from him and opened it. He took it back without a sound, trying to gather enough of his wits to even tell if he wanted to eat or not. Right than he simply did not care, about anything.

He nibbled at the Chinese they set in front of him and let the conversation flow around him. It was kind of nice to be this numb, nothing hurt and nothing mattered. He blinked back to awareness as Natasha moved to crouch next to his chair.

“Hawk. What do you want to do? Movie downstairs with the team or stay here?”

Clint blinked at her for a moment, trying to force his cotton filled head to process the question. He missed the looks that Natasha and Phil exchanged over his head.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” She finally offered when he seemed to have no answer coming any time soon.  Clint was able to nod at that, yes, bed would be nice. He slowly wheeled himself back into the bedroom, Phil and Natasha following.

“Phil can you change the sheets while I help Clint get cleaned up for bed?” She asked watching the unfocused gaze of her partner, she did not like this. She guided the archer through his nightly routine without complaint, prompting him when he paused or seemed to get lost in his mind.

Once he was clean, teeth brushed and body at least wiped down with a washcloth, she helped him into a pair of pajamas. This time he did not tumble out of his chair, instead, slowly easing himself down like his joints ached. She had never seen him like this and she did not like it. She gestured Phil to the otherside of the bed, he had already changed into his own set of pajamas and the bed was turned down and ready for it’s occupants. They nudged Clint into the middle and pressed against him so that he was sandwiched between them, leaning against Phil’s chest while Natasha spooned him behind.

“How do you feel, Clint?” Phil asked softly, not really expecting an answer. The soft “Tired.” that muttered against his shoulder made him twitch. He did not like how biddable Clint had become, it was like he was trying to shut down.

“Clint, I need you to tell me what you want.” Phil pressed stroking one hand through the archer’s short hair. “I know you see better from a distance and if this is what you need to do to get that distance than we will do what we can to help.”

“Ask me.” Clint sighed, letting himself float, anchored by his partners. “Easy to talk like this.”

“Tell me if you need to stop, Clint.” Phil said as Natasha pulled him into a one armed hug for a moment.

“Okay.”

“Tell me about Ash.” Clint huffed another sigh against Phil’s collarbone and wrapped his arms around the other man, snuggling against his chest. Of course Phil would go right to the hard questions without any build up.

“Ash was a mercenary like me.” Clint said, shifting slightly. “ We did a job together and just fell together afterwards. We almost never worked together but we started meeting up more and more. Eventually I knew about a bunch of his safe houses and he knew mine. If we were near each other we would meet at one.” Clint said, softly with a sigh. “It was nice at first to have someone to talk shop with, workout with. We fought a lot over silly things, what gun was the best, what place had the best chinese. Than the fights got nastier. Ash wanted to join Ten Rings, wanted me to join with him. I refused. The fights got rough, both of us getting beat up so I left. He tracked me down and we had it out again. Over and over I would leave and he would find me. Sometimes we fought, sometimes we fucked. Eventually I had enough and left for Shield. I lost track of him a few months into training and I decided to let it go. He probably was with Ten Rings and I was with Shield.”

“So you tried to forget him for the next ten years?”

“Yes.” Clint murmured into the other man’s chest, shrinking in on himself. Yes, he had run away from his problems and hoped they would never find him again. Yes, they had come back to bite him in the ass.

“And once you were captured and brought back to him?”

“My back was hurt right before I was delivered to Ash. Two goons were roughing me up, asking questions I wouldn’t answer. They drugged me after that and I woke up in a medical bay with Ash. He had the doctor fix my back and once I was well enough to be out and about he gave me a set of rooms and let me go where I wanted in the compound. I had two body guards or was locked in my rooms at all times.”

“So he didn’t touch you at first?”

“No, he ate his meals with me when he was on base. We watched movies, read together. I guess the doctors finally cleared me for sex because Ash ordered the nurse to prep me every night when they cleaned me up for bed. After that he would show up once I was in bed and stay for a few hours. He never stayed the night.”

“I’m sorry you went through that, Clint.” Clint shrugged from where he lay against Phil.

“It was a mission, just had to wait for the right moment. You guys gave me that.”

“Still wish we had been faster. We just missed you in Scotland.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad I’m here now.”

“Us too, Hawk.”

“Clint, can you explain to me why you were upset yesterday in the shower? Was it something I did?”

“No.” Clint said, taking several deep breaths, trying to keep himself in the numb state that was allowing him to talk so easily. “Ash liked to make me cum when we had sex. I couldn’t really feel it much so it took a lot to even get me hard. Think he took it as a challenge.” Clint swallowed, pushing himself more firmly into the space between his partners. “I didn’t want to cum.”

“So when we kissed in the shower?”

“I got hard and flashed back for a second, freaked me out.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Phil murmured into Clint’s hair. They lay there for the rest of the night, the three of them curled against each other like children, taking comfort as it was offered.

 


	16. Ch. 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers finally get called out and Clint and Phil spend the night together.

Ch. 16

 

The next morning everything was back to normal. They had breakfast together, Phil sharing a few clever anecdotes from the papers while they all nibbled at fruit and yogurt. Natasha and Clint went to the gym after breakfast but not before Clint tugged Phil down so that he could press a quick kiss to his cheek. He grinned slightly to see Phil blush faintly as he straightened back up, adjusting his cuffs.

Natasha left him to his own devices once they reached the gym. He worked out on the new parallel bars that had been set up for about an hour before retreating to the range for the rest of the morning. Natasha found him there several hours later working with a small recurve he had found in the weapons locker. It looked like Stark or someone had tried to stock a variety of weapons, crossbows, compound bows and varying sizes and styles of recurves.

“I have to leave on a mission in two days.” She told him when he shot the last arrow from his quiver.

“Where?” he asked, not really expecting her to answer.

“France.” She said walking with him back to the elevator. “It should be a straight in and out. I’ll be back in a few days.”

He nodded at that, slightly surprised that she had even said where she was going, but then it not might be where she was headed, you could never tell with missions. Some were so classified that they came with their own cover stories for within the department.

“Be safe.” he muttered as he went to wheel out of the elevator. Natasha grabbed his shoulder keeping him next to her.

“Something you know?” She questioned softly. Sometimes you could just feel that an op was going to go bad, even if they did not have the intel to prove it. They had always  respected each other when one of them thought a mission needed extra care.

“No, just…” He floundered, fighting to find a way to explain that she was the one currently keeping him grounded and he was not sure how he would be while she was gone. At the same time he did not want her worrying about him while she was off on a mission, she needed her head in the game.

“Not a gut thing.” he finally said with a sigh, frustrated with himself. 

She gave him a nod and pushed out of the elevator leaving him to follow. Bruce and Steve were in the kitchen again making sub sandwiches. There must be some calendar for who did meals each day, he would need to talk with Jarvis about getting put back on the list...and making sure he did not forget about it once he was down for a day. Coulson was no where in sight but Tony was already working on a tablet at the table.

“Phil coming?” he asked the room in general as he made his way to the fridge and tugged out a bottle of water for both him and Natasha.

“No idea.” Tony said without looking up from his tablet. “Jarvis?”

“Team Handler Coulson is currently in a meeting at Stark Enterprises, Sir.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.” Clint muttered, tugging out his Starkpad from where it was shoved into a pocket of his chair.

He had been researching wheelchair options the last few days. He figured that Shield owed him at least a good chair after the clusterfuck that had become his life. He made a note to check with Phil later about it.

A popup reminded him that he had emails to review and appointments in the morning at Shield. Great. The last place he wanted to be was at Shield right now. They had proved with the stupid contracts that they no longer trusted him so why in the world would he trust them with his medical care. Fuck, that meant he would have to vet an all new medical staff and shop around for a doctor to treat him once he got his strength back enough for the surgery.

He added several points for researching medical care to his to do list and typed up several questions for Phil once he returned. He glanced up, blinking from his spot at the table when a sandwich was shoved in front of him. A new bottle of juice was thumped down beside it a moment later.

“You need to eat something. It’s ham.” Natasha said bluntly before taking a bite of her own sandwich.

“Thanks.” He murmured, picking up a section of his sub and starting to nibble while he slowly typed.

He had a few favors owed to him from a doctor a few states away that he could call in but they were only a general practitioner. He would need a surgeon and surgical staff for his operation. Maybe he could give the guy a call and see who would they might be able to recommend. It was worth a shot at least. He typed out a quick email from one of his dummy accounts and sent it off trying not to think about the next step he would have to take eventually, the actual surgery.

That done he finished half of his sandwich and the juice be for setting the rest next to Steve’s plate knowing the super soldier hated to see food wasted and his enhanced metabolism left him constantly hungry. He missed the concerned looks that the others exchanged behind his back as he wheeled himself back to the elevator and to his floor.

“He’s not eating enough.” Tony muttered unhappily.

“Like you have room to talk.” Natasha snapped back, glancing at the cup of coffee he was nursing and the distinct lack of a plate in front of him.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Steve asked, trying to distract everyone from the blooming argument.

“He’ll pick up soon, he’s not really eating that unhealthy. He’s just worried and stressed out so he’s not eating as much as he used to. Once everything evens out he should start eating normally again.” Bruce said from his spot at the back corner of the table, next to Tony.

“We don’t know how food was handled while he was captive.” Natasha pointed out with a small frown. It bothered her that she knew so little about what he had went through while in Ash’s care.

“Should we ask or just leave it?” Steve asked, glancing at Bruce since he seemed to be the one with the most knowledge of these situations.

“As long as he is eating something, I would leave it alone for now.” Bruce said with a sigh. “Any eating problems he might have gotten during his imprisonment might go away on their own or they might get worse. Pressuring him about it now could cause him to relapse. Has he ever had any eating issues before?”  
“Expect for going vegetarian for a while after a really bad op, not that I am aware of. And no, I don’t think that is effecting him now.”

“I am not sure I want to know what happened but if it could affect him along with everything else…”

“I don’t think it will. He was watching a child prostitution ring and somehow the target got wind of the price on his head. He chain all the children into a warehouse and set it on fire. Clint abandoned his post, losing the shot, to try and save the children. He got ten out before the ceiling collapsed. Over thirty children under the age of fifteen died.”

 

***

 

Clint was going through a stack of mail on the living room rug when she walked into the room. He was propped back against the couch, tearing into a small box sitting next to him. Stacks of paper and a few spreadsheets glowed on the glass around him, fading as she approached.

“Order something?”

“Books.” He said with a slight grin which Natasha returned. For all the times that the man played the dumb country boy he truly loved to learn and could be find during most of his downtime outside of the range, reading.

“I have some books you might like on my floor. I’ll bring them up later.” She said

“Jarvis, show her the chair.”

“Of course, Agent Barton.” Jarvis replied, smoothly displaying a wheelchair in the air before them. It appeared to be still a simple wheelchair, just one meant for better speed and stability with tilted wheels and a better quality seat and leg support.

“Very nice. Tony would probably paint flames on the wheels if you asked him nicely.” She offered with a small grin.

“Lasers.” He countered.

“Missiles.” She corrected, making him groan. “Yeah, we probably don’t need to give him any ideas.”

 

They spent the next few hours brushing up on their ASL from the books he had picked up and were happily signing to each other when Phil came home that afternoon. He watched them for a moment before slipping into his room to change. He emerged in a pair of worn jeans and a comfortable black sweater and was secretly pleased to see Clint’s hands stutter and the tips of his ears turn a light pink as he watched him walk in.

“Hey, Phil.” Clint said softly, watching the other man as he settled down on the ground on the other side of him.

“Hello, Clint. Natasha.” Phil had just opened his mouth to ask how their day went when both his and Natasha’s phone went off.

“Shield is sending a Quinjet to the roof, it should land in five minutes.”

“Do you know what the disturbance is?”

“Shield is sending the preliminary reports over now however the media has reported large creatures that appear to be made of rock, flying and attacking civilians in Brooklyn.”

Natasha was already up and out the door shedding her clothes as she moved so that she could slip into her uniform quickly once she reached her floor. Phil glanced at Clint, needing to see that he was okay with them leaving him.

“Go.” He said with a bitter smile. “I’ll be here.” Phil dropped to his knees without a thought and kissed that smile off his face.

“Jarvis, make sure Clint has a muted feed to the com lines.”

“Of course, Team Handler Coulson. The jet in on route to land.”

“On my way.” He murmured stealing one last peck from Clint before he strode out of Clint’s rooms and to the elevator, it moving as soon as the doors closed even without him selecting a floor.

Thankfully it was a short battle. The creatures were indeed made of stone and all it took was a hard enough blow to the head to sever or shatter the material to make the entire creature collapse. The team was back by eight that night, calling out for takeout and regaling Clint with their recaps of the fight.

As far as Clint was concerned, seeing only minor scrapes and bruises soothed the worry that had been twisting his insides during the battle. What if the team got injured because he was not there to help? It was the same with Natasha leaving on a mission in two days. Normally he would not worry since he knew she could take care of herself but this time he would not be able to follow if she did get into trouble. Was this how everyone else felt watching the ones they love run off to war?

The team however was happy if tired from the battle so he tried to shrug off his mood and enjoy dinner with everyone. Once the meal was done they all separated to their floors. Phil and Clint went to his living room, a movie playing in the background while Phil finished up the paperwork that missions always seemed to generate. Clint knew Natasha might show up later once she had cared for all her gear and weapons but for now it was nice simply to relax next to his...what exactly could he call Phil now? His boyfriend seemed too high school. His partner went without saying, he trusted the man to always have his back, same as he did Natasha. However Phil was becoming much more than his partner. He was not sure how to define it.

 

***

 

Clint felt a swell of affection for Phil when he merely raised an eyebrow as he wheeled himself into his bedroom and alongside the bed. He ignored how his hands were shaking as he locked his chair and thrust a sheet of paper at Phil before pulling himself onto the bed. Phil read the short note as the younger man pulled himself into his lap.

“You want to spend the night with me?”

“Yes, just sleep.” Clint mumbled into the covers, wrapping one arm around Phil’s waist.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?”

Clint gave a small choked laugh and shrugged. He had no idea how he was going to react when he woke up with another man next to him. Ash had never spent the night with him but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have some kind of freak out.

“I had a thought about how we can work on you getting used to being hard when we are together.” Phil said hesitantly, watching how the other man froze in arranging himself in bed.

“How?”

“By giving you complete control.”

Clint merely blinked at him, waiting for more details. He had no idea how giving a partially paralyzed man control would change anything. The main thing he did not have right now was control, over anything. Phil sighed before flipping the covers off of himself and pulling off his undershirt, leaving him in pajama pants and socks.

“Would you like to try and kiss me now?”

“Okay.” Clint said, agreeing hesitantly. He had used up most of his nerve just coming to the other man’s room. He shifted until he was pressed against Phil, using the headboard to pull himself up next to where the man was seated.

“Can I shift you a bit?”

“Yeah.” Clint said, still twitching slightly when the other man pulled him into his lap with no warning, his hands firm on the archer’s hips, anchoring him so that he was seated firmly upright.

“What next?” Clint asked uncertainly, licking his lips as he took in the man lying under him.

“Whatever you like.” Phil said, his eyes watching the nervous tells the other man was giving off. “You tell me what you want and how you want it.”

Clint shuddered slightly at this as he delicately ran his fingertips along the naked skin of Phil’s chest. He mapped the scars and the wiry hair that sprinkled his skin for a long time before he shifted, leaning forward to taste. He made a soft humming, pleased sound in his chest as Phil’s breath hitched with the contact. He ducked his head and licked and nibbled his way across the man’s chest, memorizing the difference in touch, taste, and texture. He lathed and suckled at each nipple until Phil squirmed under him ever so slightly.

Rocking back, Clint tugged off his own tee-shirt, tossing it off the bed to one side. Leaning down he gripped the headboard and pulled himself until they were flush, chest to chest. Phil rocked his hip under him as he sucked in a shuddering breath, a muttered sorry on his lips before Clint stopped him with a small shake of his head.

“Keep going. Like it.” Clint said, his voice ragged. “Kiss me?”

Phil ducked his head to kiss the shorter man, meaning it to be a chaste press of lips but it quickly turned into a dueling press and slid of lips and teeth as Clint licked his way into the man’s mouth. Clint ran one hand through the hair at the back of Phil’s neck, gripping and kneading the muscles of his neck and shoulders. His other hand gripped the headboard, keeping him upright as Phil rolled his hips under him, gripping his hips to grind their hips together.

Clint could faintly feel the hard length of Phil’s cock sliding between them, the firm bruising grip of his hands turning him on more than the muted press of skin and fabric along his own cock and balls.  They continued in this manner until they were forced to break apart simply to breath. Clint gripped Phil to him with both arms, biting at his neck and placing open mouthed kissed everywhere he could reach.

“Touche yourself?” Phil asked his voice shaking, “Want to see you come.”

“Fuck, yes.” Clint muttered fighting himself back upright and wrestling his cock out of his sleep pants. Every touch to the area below his waist still felt muted and faint compared to how he used to remember it. “Keep moving? Please?” He asked, stroking himself slowly as he took in the debauched look his handler was wearing. Hair mussed, lips kiss swollen and chest marked with small bite marks, pupils blown and eyes dark. He was gorgeous.

“Gorgeous.” He murmured, as he tightened his hand trying to feel the friction as he watched Phil fall to pieces under him. He let himself still as he watched Phil’s hips stutter under him, body trembling as he came. Letting go, he let his weight rest against the other man, sprawled in a long line along his length.

“Sorry.” Phil sighed, his voice still rough as he fought his breathing back to normal.

“Don’t be, you were wonderful.” Clint muttered in the skin of his collarbone, letting his body melt into the solid heat of Phil’s.

“Can I try? I want to get you off also.”

“Don’t need it.” Clint said into the skin of his chest, rubbing his nose into the notch of his sternum.

“But do you want it?”

“Not right now. This is nice.”

“Okay.” Phil said, shifting him to one side for a moment so that he could strip out of his sleep pants and clean up slightly. “Still want to sleep here?”

“If you don’t mind.” Clint murmured watching as the other man slid into bed and got settled before he pulled himself up next to him, wrapping one arm across his chest while Phil hugged him closer.

“Good night, Clint.”

“Night, Phil.” Clint said softly, stroking one hand down Phil’s side just because he was now allowed to.

 


	17. Ch. 17

Natasha left on for her mission late last night and Clint had never been more aware of the space her absence left in his life. He divided the first morning between between the gym and the range doing his best to ignore the times he automatically turned to check on Natasha and to find her missing.

He curled up on one of the team floor’s living room couches with several of the books Natasha had left him for an hour or two once lunch was over, Bruce sitting to one side eying the titles with interest while he drank tea and worked on his tablet.

“You can read one if you like. They’re Natasha’s, but she wouldn’t mind you borrowing one as long as you return it.”

“Maybe once I get caught up on the articles I have saved. Thanks.”

Clint, Phil and Bruce ate a quiet dinner together before Bruce headed to take Tony a plate and they headed to Clint’s floor. Steve was at Shield headquarters working on a project for Fury, apparently, while Tony had locked himself in his lab like usual working on a project.

 

Clint went and got ready for bed and then grabbed his tablet, curling on the couch until Phil came out to join him.

“Need to talk to you. Need to ask something.”

“You know you can always ask me anything.”

“About the surgery.”

“You want it?”

“Yes.” He said thrusting the tablet at Phil, his list of research and questions pulled up. Some questions had been crossed out as he researched while others had attached links or written notes in multiple colors. In short the document was a mess.

“When you’re ready I can schedule it with Shield.”

“No.” Clint said, pointing to one of the outlines that listed possible doctors and surgeons.

“You want it done by someone outside of Shield.”  
“Yes.” Clint said, pointing to the document again.

“Okay.” Phil hummed, shifting to put his feet up on ottoman as he dug into the files that Clint had collected.

Clint watched for a few minutes before pulling himself into his chair to go grab another tablet. He snagged the next book in  Natasha’s stack while he was at it and dumped everything next to Phil before heading to the kitchen. He got stuck however once he realized he could not wheel the chair and hold two large cups of coffee.

“Phil?”

“Yes?”

“Coffee?” Phile glanced back and saw Clint at the edge of the living room pit area with a tray full of snacks on his lap and a cup of coffee in each hand.

“Hang on.” He said setting the tablet to the side and moving to take the cups.

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for the coffee.” Phil said with a small smile. “It looks like you put a lot of work into researching every option. I want to review everything before we discuss this.”

“Sounds good.”

“Natasha sent me a link to the chair you liked. It’s been ordered and should arrive in a day or two.” he said setting everything down and motioning Clint to lay down next to him once the snack tray had been set to one side.

“Hungry?”

“Not really, just know I should be eating more.” Clint muttered with a blush, snagging a few carrot sticks and a book to read, his head in Phil’s lap.

“Don’t eat if you don’t feel like it. I’d rather you ate when you were actually hungry than make yourself sick.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He nibbled his carrots while Phil sipped at his coffee, one hand stroking along Clint’s hair when he was not using it to mess with the tablet. See, shockingly normal. He could do this dating thing. They slept together in Phil’s bed, Phil spooned against Clint’s back. It was wonderful for as long as it lasted.

Clint woke up fighting, struggling to push away from the weight pressing  him down. He bucked and twisted, lashing out with his head and elbows as he clawed away from his attacker. He heard someone talking behind him but he was completely focused on getting away.  Falling off the bed did not exactly factor into that.

 

“Jarvis, lights at fifty percent.” Phil said, watching Clint laying next to the bed, coughing as he tried to get his breath back. “You with me, Clint?” In response Clint curled in on himself, arms up like he was trying to protect his head. No, he was not with Phil right now. Phil quickly pulled on a shirt while he considered his options. This was either going to work or it was going to blow up in his face.

“Barton, talk to me.” He snapped, exactly like he did when they were on a mission and Clint was being his normal, annoying, self sacrificing self and had just tossed himself off some unstable structure and went com silent. Clint froze, chest heaving, body shivering in reaction.

“C-Coulson.” Clint stuttered, his breath wheezing around the words. He was not out of it yet.

“Report, Barton.”

“Here, sir.”

“Do you know where you are, Agent?”

“No?” He said, his voice high and slightly waivering.

“You’re in my room, Clint. In Avengers tower. It’s three am. You had a nightmare and fell out of bed.”

“Okay.”

“You back with me?”

“No, sir.” Clint said thickly, shivering. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“Of course. Can I give you a blanket? You look cold, Clint.”

“T-Toss it.” Phil tossed the blanket to land just to one side of Clint before retreating to the living room.

“Jarvis can you give me a view of the bedroom on the main screen?”

“Of course, sir. Do you need any other assistance?”

“Not yet.” Phil muttered, watching as Clint dragged himself and the blanket under the bed.

Normally he would contact Natasha and she would go join Clint where ever he had holed up be it the ventilation shafts or a remote rooftop. He had never been felt it was proper for a work relationship if he offered his asset comfort in situations like this. He was also afraid of triggering more flashbacks since it was a man that had abused Clint most often. He waited a few minutes to let Clint get settled in before going back to the open bedroom door.

“Clint, is there anything you need?” It took several long moments but a low “No.” answered him.

“Would it help if I was under the bed with you?” He got a quicker “No!” this time, sounding more panicked.

“I need to know what you normally do, Clint, so that I can help. I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

“Just sleep. Be okay in the morning.”

“Do you want me in the room?”

“Not close.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

That was how Phil spent the rest of the night, curled in one corner of his room with Clint under the bed, awake and standing guard over his friend and lover. Sometime in the early morning Clint slipped out and pulled himself into his chair, pushing himself quickly into his room. Phil was sure if he had been able to run, he would have been in the vents in a heartbeat. Instead he spent the day in his room only coming out for dinner.

He was quiet all day, only answering questions directed to him with one syllable responses but he did join the team for dinner. After dinner he went back to his room, getting ready for bed even though it was still early. Phil was surprised Clint did not try to head to the gym or range since that had always been his method of evening out.

Phil did his best to give Clint the space that he seemed to be pushing for. He did his best not to react when Clint wheeled himself into the living room and locked his wheelchair next to the couch. He pulled himself onto the wide cushions and into Phil’s lap. He lay there stiff and still until Phil’s hand found it’s way into his hair, stroking softly while he watched the news. Eventually Clint fell asleep, fingers tangled in the pockets and belt loops of Phil’s jeans.


	18. Ch. 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Not fully happy with this one yet, bare with me while I tweak.***

The next few days were rough for Clint. He went through the motions but he wasn’t really sleeping at night. He and Phil went about their days, eating meals together and sitting next to each other on the couch watching movies at night but they no longer slept in the same room and they had not had sex since his nightmare.

The afternoon Natasha returned Clint could feel the stress leaching out of his muscles. With both her and Phil there, nothing could get to him, he could sleep and trust nothing to get to him. He knew in his head that he was safe in the tower but he could not relax around the rest of the team like he could around Phil and Natasha.

That first night Natasha was back they slept curled about each other like puppies in his bed with Phil keeping watch from one of the chairs near the door. It was how they had slept in countless safe houses once the post mission exhaustion hit. One of them would keep watch with weapons at the ready while the others slept. It had saved them more than once when a bad guy had managed to track down one of the Shield safe houses.

It took another two days for them to get back into a normal rhythm. Clint knew in his head that being as dependent on his partners as he was could not be healthy but he had spent the last ten years learning to trust them with his life  and sanity. That was not something to be unlearned in a few weeks.

He began trying to vary his schedule more. Working out in the afternoons, working on paperwork in the common area while the others were around, or sitting in a corner of Bruce or Tony’s lab reading while they worked. He had briefly entertained the idea of leaving the tower but it left him back huddled in the closet, suffered through flashbacks. He would need to get out eventually but maybe it could wait until after the surgery for his back.

He also was forcing himself to talk more, no matter how much the words stuttered and tripped on his tongue. Strangely, it was talking that was making him the most frustrated. Fighting for the words left him exhausted and shivering or fighting off flashbacks the more he fought against the ingrained need to be silent.

It felt like he was painted a target on his forehead with every syllable, leaving himself exposed and weaponless on a highwire. He told Natasha as much and she took it in with the micro frown that meant she was turning over the problem. She was a strategist at heart and could think circles around most of the Shield tacticians. She would puzzle out the problem and come back to him with a solution or at least something that have a high chance of helping.

Phil had spent the time reviewing Clint’s questions and suggestions for the surgery. He worked with Miss Potts to find a local hospital that could be secured to his exacting standards and set up interviews and background checks on the potential surgeons and staff.  Clint suspected Stark had paid to have a new wing of the hospital built if the surgery and recovery could move forward.

Clint spent his days shooting his bow at the range and curled in his rooms reading. His new chair had come in and he signed the modified contracts to work mainly for Stark Industries. He would work with Shield on a mission by mission basis with Phil as his handler but until he had the surgery and recovered he was grounded by Shield policy anyway.

Overall he thought he was doing better. He was eating and working out more regularly. He spent time with Phil and they had cuddled and exchanged lazy kisses a few nights now even if they stopped before it went anywhere serious. He was making progress he thought with a small grin, watching from one side of the gym as Natasha flipped and spun on the mats.

 

***

 

Clint sat in the back of Bruce’s lab reading a book and sipping at the cup of tea that the quiet scientist always pushed on him when he came by. Tony had breezed in about an hour ago and the engineer and scientist were deep into their technobabble as they tweaked some new machine that Tony was working on. Of course it would not be a project that Tony Stark worked on without a few explosions. No one factored in the fact that having explosions around a Hulk and an assassin suffering from PTSD was a bad idea.

The explosion threw Tony into a wall, while Bruce hit the floor hard, changing even as he fell. Clint toppled out of his chair, taking out a small table on the way, belly crawling under a table as the Hulk rose up with a roar. He shoved himself against the wall as his body locked into stillness, his mind replaying other explosions and their aftermaths as the Hulk started to destroy the room around him.

Tony came to just as the Hulk ran out of things to smash. He struggled to his feet spying the archer's wheelchair flipped to one side and the tip of one boot poking out from under one of the few intact tables. Right, damage control before this got any worse.

“Clint, you okay?” There was no response that he could hear over the continuous growl from Hulk and the steady snap and pop of fried circuits.

“Hey, Big Green!” He called, coughing for the fumes from melting plastic. Jarvis must have kicked on the hazmat ventilation because the smoke was quickly being vented, swirling out of one side of the room. “Listen, I know the explosion hurt you and I’m sorry about that.” He said with a wince. “But we kind of need Bruce right now. Clint needs him. Do you remember Clint?”

“Birdy hurt?”

“Yes, Birdy, Hawkeye, is hurt and you smashing things right now is not going to help. We need Bruce right now.”

“Bruce puny.”

“Yeah, well, we need puny right now!” Tony shouted. The Hulk roared back before shuffling to one side and sitting down, grumbling under his breath.

“Great. That’s good.” Tony muttered distractedly, turning away and heading for Clint’s table. “Jarvis? You there?”

“No sensors were damaged, Sir. Hulk appears to have concentrated on the machines in the room.”

“Lucky for us.”

“The alarm was activated in the explosion, the other Avengers are on their way.”

“Great, get Coulson here. Clint might need him.”

“He has already been alerted and is on his way back to the tower as is Miss Potts.”

“Great, it’s going to be a party.” Tony huffed, levering his aching body to his knees and peeking under the table. “Clint, buddy, you alive under there?” Clint lay frozen under the table not responding to anything Tony did. His eyes stared out, blind, locked in his mind, as his hands clutched at the shirt he was wearing. Bruce had shifted back but was laid out unconscious on the floor.

“Great. PTSD assassins.” Tony said, blowing out a breath. “Jarvis how far out are Natasha and Coulson?”

“Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov are currently working on opening the door. The explosion seems to have disabled the locking mechanism. I do not have a time on Shield Liaison Coulson but he has apparently borrowed a motorcycle and is on his way in.”

“Wonderful. Since Clint seems to be good where he is I’m going to work fire control. Let me know if there is anything I can help with on the door.”

“I have severed all power connections to the lab and the lights are running on emergency power.”

“Good for you.” Tony bit out as he tugged out fire extinguisher and worked on dousing the sparking remains of several hundred thousand dollars worth of technology. The power might be cut but some of these machines had backup batteries. With an ear piercing screech the door slowly gave way, Natasha slipping through as soon as the gap was wide enough. Natasha took in the room in one sharp eyed sweep.

“Clint?”

“Under the table. He’s not responding, might be a flashback.” Tony said, moving to help a groaning Bruce sit up. “Hey, Big Green. Don’t try to move so fast. We’ve got enough problems without you throwing up.”

“Not funny, Tony.” Bruce gasped out as Steve stepped up to support his other side once he was vertical. They started guiding the staggering man out of the room. Suddenly, Clint started cursing and shouting, random bangs against metal and smacks of flesh on flesh filled the room as the two assassins fought under the table. As suddenly as it started, Clint went silent except for harsh breathing echoing as Natasha rolled out from under the table sporting a split lip.

“I’m just going to hurt him if I try and force him out. Coulson might be able to talk him out but he’s ignoring me right now.” For the next ten minutes Natasha lay watching her partner shake and twitch as he watched whatever was playing out in his mind. She murmured to him in russian and kept up a constant background of mission codes and reminders of things they had went through together.

“This is probably related to a mission, right?”

“Probably.” Natasha agreed. “If it was the explosion that triggered this it was most likely from a mission.”

“Jarvis are the projectors still operational?”  
“Yes, Sir.”

“Great, pull up everything you can find on Clint Barton in Shield’s servers and cross reference everything for explosions that resulted in injuries.”

“That’s going to be be half his file knowing Hawkeye.” Steve pointed out as he came back in.

“Bruce settled?” Tony asked, flipping through projected pages that Jarvis was producing.

“Out like a light. Jarvis is keeping an eye on him.”

“Any good ideas on how to get an assassin suffering from PTSD like flashbacks out from under a steel lab table?”

“Long as he’s not hurting himself I don’t see the harm in leaving him there until he comes out of it. It’s what we did during the war when a soldier had a bad run.”

“We don’t know if he’s hurt or not. What if he’s really injured?” Tony said with frustration. “Could you tell?” He asked Natasha.

“He didn’t seem to be hiding any injuries but he did hit his head at some point. There’s a cut near his hairline but it had already stopped bleeding.” Coulson, stepped through the door and tossed a motorcycle helmet to Steve.

“Sitrep.”

“Bruce and I were tinkering on a new machine while Clint read. The machine blew, I got knocked out for a bit. Came to when Hulk had finished destroying the place. Clint hid under the table over there. Steve and Natasha got in and got Bruce out once he transformed. He’s sleeping it off. Natasha tried to get Clint out and he fought her. Looks like he’s having a flashback of some kind. I’ve had Jarvis combing his files for similar missions with explosions and injury.”

“Check his military files as well. He’s run several ops undercover as a soldier in different middle eastern countries.”

“I didn’t work with him on any of those.” Natasha murmured softly.

“Neither did I.” Phil said, removing his jacket and tie before he lowered himself next to the table. “He went in alone with no backup for all of the ones I know about.”

“Pull out the names he was under, if we can get him to respond to one we might can talk him out of it.” He said, glancing under the table at the trembling archer.

Phil watched the archer for a moment before he began softly calling his name and call sign. With a sigh, he barked out a demand to report, seeing Tony jump in the corner of his eye. Clint writhered in response, a soft lanity of deniles falling from his lips in between soft whimpers.

“Jesus, Coulson. We called you in to calm him down, not freak him out!”

“Last time he had a flashback it snapped him out of it, Stark. Clint, you’re safe. The ops over. You need to come back now.”


	19. Ch. 19

Ch. 19

 

Clint reeled from the explosion, panting shallowly in the smoke and noise, forcing his numb limbs to claw him forward through the firefight raging around him. He reached the relative safety of a broken wedge of building, pressing his back against the hot bricks as he fought to breath through the choking smoke and dust. A brick to the head left him reeling, fighting to see clearly enough to judge friend from foe as dust coated figures rushed by.

His gun was missing; had he dropped it in the explosion? All he could hear was the roaring of his heart beat in his ears and the dull whump of explosions more felt than heard. His ears and head pulsed with pain. He could feel blood soaking his combat gear. A touch to one shoulder had him lashing out with a knife, teeth bared. Someone was shouting at him but the words made no sense, if they wanted to capture him they were going to have to shoot him first.

 

“What if we tranqed him?” Tony offered. “We could wait for the tranq to take hold and than pull him out?”

“We might have to if we can’t calm him down. I’ll go get a tranq gun.” Natasha said, heading out at a jog.

Phil pulled himself under the table again, trying to get Clint to acknowledge him in some way. He continued to ignore anything said to him and lashed out at the slightest touch. They wrestled and fought in the small space for several minutes before Phil managed to twist the knife away and toss it across the floor somewhere behind him. They were both breathing hard and sporting cuts and bruises, Clint has already curled his arms up, hands at the ready to defend himself. Phil tried to ignore the slashes that has shredded the sleeves of his coat and were already getting sticky with blood.

 

“Steve?” Phil asked as he rolled back out from under the table. “Do you think you could move the table off without hitting Clint?”

“Yeah, help me stabilize it just in case.”

A few moments later the table was moved and they got their first good look at Clint. He was dust covered with small bruises and cuts covering his face neck and arms. He hunched in on himself, arms up in front of his head and chest braced for the next blow, breathing harshly. As they watched he shifted trying to force himself tighter into the corner. Slowly he relaxed as they watched, sinking down against the concrete flooring. He coughed weakly again against one arm for a moment before turning back to face the room, blood smeared across his lips.

“Shit.” Tony cursed softly, eying the shivering man.

“Clint.” Phil said slowly moving forward at a crouch until he was sitting next to his partner. Clint coughed again for a minute, before glancing up at the man next to him in confusion.

“Coulson?”

“Hey, Clint. How are you doing?”  
“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Where do you think we are, Clint?”  
“A-stan.” Clint said, voice sounding uncertain. Tony made a sound in the background but Phil could not risk even a glance away from the man sprawled next to him.

“What do you remember?”  
“There was an explosion. IED went off, threw me into a wall.”

“Yes, there was an explosion but we’re in Tony’s workshop. A machine he was working on blew up.”

“That’s not right.” Clint said, his voice rough as he started coughing again.

“Can I touch you, Clint?”

“Yeah, you can always touch me, Coulson.” Clint muttered, slowly relaxing where he lay.

“Can you feel me touching you?” Phil asked running a light hand through his love’s short hair.  
“Yeah.”

“So, we can’t be in A-stan if I’m here touching you. We’ve never been on a mission in A-stan together have we?”

“No. Tony’s lab?”

“Yes. We’re in Tony’s lab.”

“Can I stand down than? I don’t feel that great.” Clint slurred, blurrily.

“Just one more question and then you can sleep, Clint. Where are you hurt?”

“My back hurts. I’m tired, Phil.”

“I know. Let me get your vest off so I can see your back.”

“Okay.” Clint slurred, sleepily, moving his arms when directed as Phil eased the leather jacket he had been wearing off. They all froze for an instant when it slid off to reveal a grey henley stained black with blood, a thick piece of shrapnel buried in Clint’s back having slashed a gaping hole in his side.

“Fuck. Call Shield. We need a helicopter here, ten minutes ago.” Phil choked out. “Steve, I need you to help put pressure on the wound.” He fought out of his dress shirt, balling it up and pressing it into Clint’s back and side.

 

***

 

Eight hours later Clint was finally out of surgery and being prepped for the healers to have their chance at him. If that did not work the healing serum would be used but there was a chance it would not work since he had already had it applied once. The team waited in a Shield conference room for news.

Pepper came in and glanced around the ragged group with a sigh.Phil, Natasha, and Steve were still marked with Clint’s blood.

“Okay, Phil, you know Clint will not want to see you looking so ragged. You three are going to go change and get cleaned up. I brought a change of clothes for everyone. Bruce and Tony can stay and keep watch. I have someone coming with sandwiches. You all need to keep your strength up.”

Phil glanced down with a jerk, he had not even realized that he still had streaks of blood covering his tee shirt and arms.

“Okay.” He agreed with a sigh, forcing himself to stand. “Thank you.”

“Natasha?” Pepper asked, handing her a small bag.

“I’ll go when Phil get’s back. We both have medical authority for Clint. One of us should stay.”

“Good. You two head out.”

“Yes, Mam.” Steve said with a small smile, taking his own bag and following Phil out the door. Pepper sat down in between Tony and Natasha, wrapping one arm around the engineers shoulders.

“So what was the last news?”

“Internal bleeding, broken ribs, blood loss, and possible spinal damage.” Natasha rattled off, face blank. “They are planning to go ahead and fix his back once he’s stable.”

“Good. That will be one less thing for him to worry about once he gets out of the hospital. I know trying to get everything set up for his surgery has been stressing him out recently.”

“Our eternal optimist.” Tony teased with a soft smile.

“Clint’s a fighter. He won’t give up just because of a few surgeries.” Natasha said firmly as she typed out several text messages.

“Stop mopping, Bruce. It’s not your fault.”

“Hulk could have hurt him. Hell, he could have killed both of you.”  
“And he didn’t. I already had Jarvis review the footage, Bruce. Clint was hit with that piece of shrapnel in the explosion. The hulk never touched him. Heck, he never touched me and I’m the one that set off the explosion. If I’m not at fault than neither or you, big green.”

Phil and Steve came back clean and dressed just as the food arrived. Natasha left to get cleaned up and was back in less than ten minutes. Phil simply handed her a sandwich and settled in to wait. An hour later the surgeon came in blood spotted and exhausted.

“We’re moving him to intensive care now. He lost a lot of blood. We have him on a ventilator right now and are keeping him heavily sedated. I can let two of you back for a few minutes but he really needs to rest. Tomorrow you can start regular visiting hours.”

“How did the surgery go?”

“We repaired everything we could, it was touch and go for a bit. He flat lined twice before we got his blood pressure stabilized. He will need several more surgeries if the healing does not take.”

“When will that be started?”  
“The healers will work on him tomorrow morning. We want to give him a few hours to get some more blood and fluids in before they start. Once he’s scanned to see what damage is left we’ll need to decide if he needs the factor or not.”

 


	20. Ch. 20

Clint woke slowly to a feeling of warmth and heavy blankets. He lingered half awake listening to the soft beeps and hisses of the equipment around him. The scent of antiseptic and the laundry detergent that Shield medical seemed to use no matter the location confirmed his suspicion that he was in medical. He could hear someone he assumed to be Phil shuffling through some kind of paper while another breathed deeply like they were asleep.

The drugs he was on were pushing to keep him down but Clint fought against them long enough to crack his eyes open. Natasha was working on paperwork while Phil slept on a nearby couch. The debris around them showed that they had been waiting for him to wake up for several days at least. He watched for a while and was almost back asleep when Steve and Bruce came in with a tray of coffees and several brown paper bags.

“How’s he doing?” Steve asked, moving to the table and setting things down as Phil sat up.

“Same as before. He still hasn’t woken up.” Phil said, his voice rough with sleep.

“I wouldn’t be too hasty about that.” Bruce said with a grin. “Hey, Clint. How are you feeling?”

Clint gave a small hum of sound as Phil came up and took his free hand, Bruce was checking his pulse in the other. He was barely keeping his eyes open and he used the last of his strength to give Phil’s hand a squeeze.

“It’s alright, Hawk. You can rest. We are keeping watch.” Natasha said from one side. He gave another soft humm before giving in and letting his eyes drift closed.

Clint surfaced for a few minutes several more times before he finally woke up enough to really interact with any of the team.

“You waking up for real this time?” Phil asked, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Huh, maybe?” Clint croaked, happily accepting the small cup of water that was raised to his mouth.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” Clint said rubbing an hand across his eyes. “What happened? Last thing I remember was in the lab with Tony and Bruce then waking up in a hospital bed.”

“A machine Bruce and Tony were working on exploded. You were injured and Tony got knocked out. Bruce hulked out and wrecked the lab. Tony tried to get you out of the wreckage once the Hulk was calmed down but you were having a flashback.”

“Yeah, A-stan.” Clint said with a small cough. “Wasn’t sure if that actually happened or not. Thought I dreamed it. Tony okay?”

“A bit shaken up but not injured. You were the only one who took damage.”

“Trouble magnet.” Clint muttered.

“Always.”

“Come here. Sit with me?”

“I don’t want to hurt you. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I don’t feel injured, just tired...drugged.”

“You lost a lot of blood.” Phil said lowering the bed and sitting to one side of the bed, resisting when Clint tried to pull him down next to him. “They were afraid you had reinjured your spine. The doctors at Shield operated while they were repairing the other damage. I had them consult with the team you had already picked for the surgery. The healers worked on you for half a day once they got your blood pressure back up.”

“No healing factor?”

“No, they were not sure it would be as effective the second time.”

“What’s the prognosis?”

“You will have a nasty scar on your hip and back but they think you should recover fully.” Phil said with a smile, stroking one hand down Clint’s side and along his hip and leg. Clint jerked in reaction, blinking at the other man. He could feel it.

“My back is fixed?”

“Yes?”

“And my legs?”

“You’ll probably still have to do a good bit of rehab but they are sure you will have a full recovery.”

Clint tugged at Phil again to pull him against him and this time he went.

Two days later Clint was curled around Phil dosing in bed at the tower. He would start rehab tomorrow but the three staggering steps he had made to the bed were enough for now. It would probably take months of rehab to get him back to where he could even do a cake walk mission but Clint was not about to complain. Just being able to feel his legs tangled with Phil’s was enough. To feel the press of his body from toe to cheek, a long line of weight and heat against him skin was enough.

Two weeks later Clint had been upgraded from a wheelchair to crutches. He hobbled his way through the tower and tried to ignore how just walking around was exhausting him. He was pushing himself hard in rehab but the results were slow to appear. He did his best to ignore how much it hurt to watch the team head out or to hug Phil and Natasha goodbye when they disappeared on missions for Shield. He was slowly improving and for now that would have to be enough.

Four months later, Clint was running through a training course while the team watched on.

“He’s going to be upset.” Natasha said softly.

“Why do you say that?” Steve asked.

“His time’s not back to where it was before his injury.”

“He’ll get back there eventually. You know he won’t stop until he is.”

“They won’t be able to prevent him from coming off light duty even with an increase in time.” Bruce pointed out. “He’s still is in the top eighty percent for the test.”

“And his marksmanship scores are still the highest in Shield.” Steve added.

“Maybe after this he can stop living in the gym. I think Agent’s about to get out the bondage tape if he doesn’t calm down soon.” Tony said, chugging at a large cup of coffee.

“We were waiting for him to be cleared for full duty before starting scenes.” Phil said, walking into the observation booth. Tony choked slightly on his coffee, while Steve turned beet red.

“Understood that reference did you?” Natasha teased with a wicked grin.

“Hard not to be exposed to things when you live with Tony.”

“He’s finished.” Phil said, eyes on the figure trudging his way back to the building.

“When will he get the results back?”

“Tomorrow morning at the earliest but Director Fury has already said this is just a formality.”

“So party tonight or tomorrow?”

“Leave it until tomorrow. Clint’s going to be too wound up to really relax until he gets the paper in his hands.” Natasha advised.

“If you don’t mind, I had plans for him tonight.” Phil interrupted with his patented micro-smirk. “You can have him in the morning.” He said ducking out the door before they could reply.

“Not sure I approve of Agent turning his skills to stealth dating.” Tony muttered. “So, who’s up for pizza tonight?”

Phil headed down to the showers and leaned against one wall waiting for Clint to emerge. He stepped out of the swinging door in a clean, dry uniform with his hair fluffed into damp spikes. Phil eyed the water droplets that were trailing their way down his neck.

“Ready to go home or would you like dinner first?”

“If we’re going out I probably need to change first.” Clint said with a grimace at his all black Shield uniform. He fell into step as Phil turned and started down the hallway.

“Do you want to just eat in? We could call for take out.”

“That might be nice. I’m kind of tired.” Clint agreed following Phil to the car and dropping into the passenger seat without the usual argument of who would be driving. They drove in silence, Clint not even fiddling with the radio like he liked to do.

“What do you want to eat?” Phil asked once they had stepped off the elevator onto their floor.

“Doesn’t matter.” Clint muttered heading to their bedroom to change clothes. Phil pulled up a few menus while he waited. He returned a few minutes later barefoot in a soft black henley and worn jeans.

“Chinese or Thai?”

“Egg drop?”

“Sure. Want anything else?”

“Nah, I’m not really hungry.”

Phil gave a small snort and placed an order with Jarvis hoping that ordering several of his favorite dishes would perk up the angsting man once he realized that he really was starving. He doubted Clint had eaten more than protein bars for the last five days of tests and supervised mock missions. He watched as the archer went to the living room and turned on some mindless movie, sprawling across the couch. Phil left him to it until the food arrived, chiving him back to the table to at least eat his soup. Once they had both eaten and Clint was reduced to moving grains of rice from one side of his plate to the other, Phil stood and put most of the food up, leaving the plates for later.

 

Moving next to his chair Phil started to rub at the man’s tense shoulders and neck. “Let me give you a massage. You must be getting stiff.”

Clint blinked up at where Phil was standing next to him. “You don’t mind?”

“No, I want to. Go stretch out on the bed.”

“Okay.” Clint agreed with a tired sigh, moving slowly to the bedroom. Phil quickly cleared the rest of the table before moving to gather supplies. He stepped into the bedroom just as Clint was crawling into bed wearing only his boxers.

“You might want to lose the boxers.” Phil said setting the warm bottle of massage oil on the side table and toeing off his shoes and socks.

“So are you thinking of an intimate massage than?”

“Only if you plan to fuck me once it’s over.” He said with a smirk, pulling off his shirt.

Clint watched him, frozen with his boxers in one hand. “Seriously?”

“If you want to. Yes.”

“You don’t want to do me?”

“Maybe next time.” Phil said as he straddled the smaller man, smoothing the warm oil between his palms as he started to knead the tight muscles of his lover’s shoulders and back.

“Um, that’s good.Love you.” Clint groaned as the tension started to ease out of his body.

“Love you, too.” Phil said with a happy hum, tracing the scars that had brought them together and leaning forward to place a kiss on a scarred bite mark.


End file.
